


Swim In The Smoke

by whoknows



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 101,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.</p><p>Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.</p><p>“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional Warnings:**
> 
>  
> 
> There are illusions to **sexual assault** within this story. No sexual assault actually takes place but it is discussed. The story deals with piracy and violence and all that goes along with it - blood, minor character death, arson, drinking, a small mention of self-harm, and a scene at the gallows. There's a bit of consent play.
> 
> Other than those things, the only thing that's really left is that this is completely inaccurate in terms of history and fight scenes. Thank you to [neozeka](http://neozeka.tumblr.com/) and [shrimplouis](http://shrimplouis.tumblr.com/) for letting me talk incessantly to them about the plot and for being general cheerleaders.

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

He still gets the impression that there’s a rather thrilling selection of words.  
They’re easy enough to ignore, though, especially when there’s sacks of gold sitting in front of him waiting to be dealt with. So. That’s what Harry deals with first.

 

He’s in the middle of divvying up the crew’s shares when Niall comes barreling into his back, brandishing a ledger like it’s a weapon, right in Harry’s face.

“He’s a prince!” Niall shouts, waving it like a madman.

Harry swipes it, just so Niall will stop shoving it up his nose. “Who’s a what now?” he asks a little absently, already turning back to the loot with the paper in one hand.

“The boy,” Niall says impatiently, gesturing emphatically with both hands. “The one we found below deck? He’s Prince Louis Tomlinson of Yorkshire.”

“He is not,” Harry says, skimming the smudged ink quickly.

He is.

Fuck.

 

There’s exactly forty-three crew members aboard _The Wandering Sparrow_ , and Harry trusts each and every one of them with his life.  
That being said, there’s no denying there’s a handful who Harry trusts to take part in the decision making process, so he gathers them up and lays out the facts they know so far. It doesn’t take long.

 

“We don’t have the resources to fight off anyone who might come for him,” Liam says logically. “If the Navy comes for him we’re fucked.”

“They haven’t so far,” Zayn points out. “According to _The Tide’s_ papers they’ve had him for three weeks and so far no one has found him.”

“Think we could ransom him?” Niall asks, which is exactly what Harry had been thinking.

“There has to be a reason that no one’s come for him yet, though,” Harry says. Sometimes he hates being the voice of reason.

Liam makes a vague noise of agreement. “Well, there’s one way to find out,” he says grimly. “You want to talk to him or shall I?”

“I’ll do it,” Harry decides, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the way the boy’s face had looked when he’d been thrown into Harry’s cabin, red with rage and dirty, still beautiful underneath all that fierceness. His attractiveness had been clear despite all of that.

The way the lads laugh at him as Harry makes his way to his cabin tells him they see right through him.

The cabin is silent, at least from the outside. Harry opens the door slowly, carefully, and steps inside. The boy - _Louis_ \- is still tied up, thrown onto the hammock and left there, by the looks of it. He’s awake, staring Harry down with as cold a glare as Harry’s ever seen. The feeling that he’d be spitting insults if he wasn’t still gagged is hard to shake.

Harry steps fully inside the room and lets the door close behind him, leaning up against it for a minute. “Do you know who I am?” he asks, using the same voice he uses to give orders to his crew during battle. Calm and even but unmistakeably in charge.

Louis’ eyes flash. He mumbles something Harry can’t understand. “I’m the Captain,” he informs Louis, straightening his back. “I’m the one who decides what happens to you.”

More slurring. Harry crosses the room and stands two feet away from where Louis is sprawled out. “I’m going to remove the gag,” he says, letting his fingers touch the sword hanging from his belt pointedly. “You’d be smart not to bite.”

He works the spit-soaked gag out of Louis’ mouth slowly, easing it past his lips. Louis blinks even slower, working his jaw.

The first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Do you know who _I_ am?” with so much bite to it Harry would be taken aback if he wasn’t expecting it.

He can always identify a mouthy one when he sees one. It’s a particularly useless talent.

“Wasn’t exactly hard to find out, sweetheart,” Harry says, pulling his hand back and resisting the urge to drag his fingers down the side of Louis’ face, find out whether his skin is as soft as it looks. “Why haven’t your parents sent anyone after you yet?”

Louis’ laugh is light and bitter at the same time. “What makes you think they haven’t?”

“They’re doing a pretty terrible job finding you, then,” Harry points out.

“Or there’s something about me that ensured my captors would take extra measures to prevent that from happening,” Louis says.

All of a sudden, the slightly sweet scent that’s been invading Harry’s senses since he walked into the room makes sense. And the even subtler unnatural scent even more so. “You’re omega?”

“You know the worst part about being omega?” Louis asks conversationally, as though he’s not currently bound with his hands tied behind his back in the middle of a pirate ship. “That there are people out there who would try to sell you as if you’re nothing more than a piece of meat.” He meets Harry’s gaze, unflinching.

Harry’s the one who flinches. He’s been the Captain of this ship for two years and at sea for the eight before that. He’s seen his fair share of fucked up shit in that time, but this is something else.

Omegas aren’t that rare, statistically speaking. They are a pretty substantial part of any population, and while Harry doesn’t believe the stereotypes - he’s bedded his fair share of people, omegas included - they’re treated like property in some circles.

A lot of circles.

An omega being kidnapped to be sold into an illegal slavery ring isn’t exactly news. A royal omega being kidnapped to be sold?

Harry’s surprised the Navy hasn’t caught up to them already.

 

Behind Harry, the door slams, unintentionally loud. He ignores it and strides back to the group. “He’s O.”

Liam’s face goes from resigned to panicked, just like that. “He’s what?”

Liam is usually pretty unflappable - years of dealing with everyone else’s shit has thickened his skin - so when he panics it will usually start Harry panicking. “He’s O, Li, we have to get rid of him. Fuck, if the Navy catches up to us they’re probably going to have at least ten ships and a whole host of guns. There’s no way - ”

“Stop!” Zayn cuts in firmly. “We’re a few days away from Fortaleza. We’ll drop him off and be on our way before anyone even realizes. Until then there’s nothing we can do.”

“We could toss him overboard,” Harry mutters ungraciously, more to himself than anyone else.

“But the ransom,” Niall laments sadly. “Think of all the gold we could have gotten if we returned him to England.”

“We can’t,” Harry says, gazing in the direction of the wooden door keeping the omega prince out of sight. “We’ll drop him in Fortaleza. It’s our best option.”

 

Harry opens his cabin door for the second time, just as slowly as he had the first. Louis’ eyes are fixed on him, the blue of them bright even in the dimness of the room. He says nothing while Harry comes all the way inside and shuts the door behind him firmly.

“You’ll be dropped off at port in Fortaleza,” Harry tells him. “We’re three days out. Until then you will stay here. If we have to keep you tied up we will.”

“My father will have your head,” Louis says faux-sweetly, head lolling on the hammock until he’s looking up at the ceiling. His arms shift as though he’s testing the strength of the ropes. “If you even think about touching me.”

As if Harry has nothing better to do with his time than torment some omega. “You aren’t that pretty, sweetheart,” he says, turning to stride out the door.

He doesn’t exactly understand what Louis is shouting at his back, but he knows it’s unflattering.

 

The sails are set, and before long they’re on their way to Fortaleza, ship cutting through the deep waters of Atlantic Ocean easily. There’s a general air of anxiety among the crew, and while it’s not unfounded Harry thinks they have the situation under control. The waters are gentle, the sky is clear, and there’s not a single ship to be seen on the horizon. Things appear to be going pretty well.

Hours pass. Harry does what he does best, which is to guide and direct his crew. They go about their daily business and no one even thinks to look in on the boy until it’s too late.

Louis bursts out of Harry’s cabin with a manic gleam in his entirely too blue eyes, brandishing a heavy tome like it’s a weapon, slamming it over the heads of two of the crew before anyone can even think to react. He has Niall in a choke-hold in under ten seconds, keeping his back to the door.

“Let me go or he dies,” Louis says, tightening his arm against Niall’s throat. Niall’s eyes are wide but not desperate, hands locked on Louis’ arm, waiting for a chance to overpower him.

Very pointedly, Harry remains where he is. “And where exactly would you like to go?” he asks, gesturing to the open expanse of the sea with one hand. “Please feel free to hurl yourself overboard and save us the trouble of getting you off our hands.”

Louis’ eyes narrow. “Take me to the nearest port.” He shakes Niall for emphasis. “Or he dies.”

“I’ve already told you that’s what we’re doing,” Harry says, keeping his voice level and reasonable. His patience is ebbing with every word, and even the sharp smell of salt hanging in the air isn’t doing much to help him. 

Calm him. This tiny little omega is threatening Harry’s crew and that won’t stand. Can’t stand.

“Faster,” Louis demands. The smudge of dirt across his cheekbone is unfairly attractive. What has Harry done to deserve any of this?

“I won’t put my crew at risk for you,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest. Louis’ eyes track the movement. “I’m not going to work them to death for some spoiled omega princeling.”

There’s outrage filtering across Louis’ face, but before he can say another word Liam finishes edging up beside him and hits him across the back of the head with the blunt edge of his sword. Louis collapses into a heap, nearly taking Niall with him in the process, unconscious and pliant. Liam shoots Harry a questioning look, re-sheathing his sword.

“Put him back in my cabin,” Harry tells him. “Better knots this time. And someone figure out how he managed to break free in the first place. Let’s not let it happen again.”

 

There’s a lot of perks to being Captain of a pirate ship. The share of gold, for example. Being the person who has the final say during battle. Knowing that his crew chose him and would likely die for him. All of those things are part of what Harry loves about commanding his own ship.

One of the best things about being in charge is that he gets to go to his own bed in his own cabin at the end of the day. Sharing his space is something Harry grew tired of a long time ago, and now he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. Also, not have to take the night shift is a pretty good perk as well.

There’s a certain problem Harry hadn’t thought of before entering his quarters for the night this time, though. A certain problem in the shape of a vicious omega, to be exact.

Liam put the boy back on the hammock, and he’s stretched out now, wrists bound to each other and the ropes of the hammock, stretched out above his head. There’s a few inches of slack in the rope, enough so he’s able to pull his arms down, shift his position enough they won’t go numb, but he’s still tied up. And this time he doesn’t look like he’ll be escaping any time soon.

Harry’s had a long day, the least of which involved corralling this omega. He’s sweaty and disheveled - understandably so, he thinks - and he’s long since stripped down to the bare essentials, only a light white shirt and trousers, black boots.

“I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to you,” Louis hisses, thrashing the best he can. The hammock threatens to tip over, struggling to hold him still, and upon second glance he’s tied at the ankles, too. Definitely more secure now.

Harry yawns. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s been a long day and he’s tired. He toes off his boots, letting them thump onto the floor. Ignores Louis.

Louis’ thrashing becomes more dramatic. “Rip off your fucking head, you Neanderthal,” he shouts, making more noise than ever. And the amount of noise he’s been making since they found him has been quite substantial.

On autopilot, Harry’s hands go to the buttons of his shirt. “If you don’t pipe down I’m going to gag you again,” he says mildly, making quick work of the buttons. He has vague plans to wash the day’s sweat and grime off and then collapse onto - 

Well. Looks like he’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight. So much for the perks of being Captain.

He shrugs out of his shirt entirely, folding it so he can place it on the table, but before he can get it there a loud, unmistakable sound pierces his ears, at a high enough volume Harry winces, dropping the shirt without meaning to.

Louis is screaming. He’s screaming loud and high pitched and he’s not stopping, and Harry’s inner alpha can’t decide whether it wants to shake him until he stops or just hold him until he’s calm.

The door bursts open before Harry makes a move to do either, or something else entirely. Liam’s got his sword drawn, in full defensive mode, and takes three sweeping looks around the cabin before turning his attention to Harry. “What did you _do_?”

“Nothing!” Harry says, staring at Louis. He’s still screaming, but it’s dying down now, less blood curling, until it stops altogether. Louis’ head is turned away, towards the wall, but there’s no denying the slightly wet sheen of his eyes.

Tears.

“Leave us,” Harry orders abruptly, not taking his eyes off of Louis, small and helpless and completely at Harry’s mercy.

Liam stalls, just for a second, before he walks out, making sure to leave the door open. With no one blocking the entrance, moonlight streams inside, illuminating Louis’ features properly, perfectly. Like this, Harry has to wonder how he didn’t realize that Louis is an omega right from the beginning. He’s properly O, at least to look at. Stereotypically O, almost, with delicate features, slight and pretty, body lean and soft.

“No one’s going to harm you,” Harry says, taking a few steps back and leaning up against the table. A strange urge to cross the room and touch Louis’ face, grip him by the back of his neck and make him understand, runs through Harry.

He resists it.

“Not if they know what’s good for them,” Louis sniffs as if he hadn’t been screaming five seconds ago, still looking at the wall.

A brat. A tiny, impossible little brat, that’s what he is. “Especially not me.”

“You’re an alpha,” Louis says, closing his eyes. “I can smell it on you, same as you can smell the O on me.”

“So?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. “You think we’re incapable of denying our base desires just because I’m alpha and you’re omega? Got some news for you, sweetheart, you’re far from the first O I’ve met that I haven’t slept with.”

“So let me go, then, if you’re such an upstanding citizen,” Louis says, turning his head and pinning an expectant look on Harry.

Harry resists the urge to sigh and lets his shirt fall to the floor. He’ll use it as a makeshift pillow. “How many times do I have to tell you that we’re going to do exactly that?”

“Right, because pirates never want anything at all,” Louis scoffs. “No rewards or anything. That’s exactly what people expect from your kind.”

Stubborn little omega. Harry’s reluctantly impressed. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out, then.”

 

Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. He’s half expecting Louis to manage to break free of his restraints again, and he’s fully aware that Louis is half expecting Harry to try something, despite the fact that the door’s open and the murmur of the crew on the night shift floats through the air.

Morning can’t come fast enough. By the time it does Harry is more than ready to roll off the floor, joints creaking and back aching a little. Louis watches him through barely open eyes, pretending to still be asleep or something, Harry doesn’t even know. Doesn’t care to know.

He doesn’t even wait for the sun to finish rising before he’s out the door. The sweet, fresh scent of a gorgeous little omega has been invading his senses all night, mixing slowly with Harry’s own scent, combining into something that had Harry gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to shift uncomfortable on the ground all night long.

They just smell good together, is all. That’s all there is to it. Nothing more.

Harry rises with the sun, a little earlier than he usually would, stalking out onto the main deck to get an update from the crew members finishing their shift, on how the sea is faring and how the ship is handling, whether there’s any damage that needs to be accounted for. He can’t quite shake off the nervous tension, the way his instincts are telling him to go back into his cabin and make that omega smell even more like him.

A few hours pass. They’re long, slow hours, and the itch underneath Harry’s skin doesn’t get any better. His crew are jumpy and tense, and Harry knows he’s only adding to the discontent, but he can’t help it, can’t make it stop.

He’s staring listlessly out across the expanse of the ocean, deep blue and calm, waters sparkling in the sunlight. They’re making good time, and so far there have been no mishaps, but he can’t quite shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong.

“Make sure someone’s on watch until we reach the shore,” Harry says, letting the order hang in the air. Both Liam and Zayn are within hearing distance - one of them will make sure it’s passed along so the entire crew is aware of the order.

Niall appears at Harry’s side, shoving a tray full of food into his hands. Harry blinks down at it, then up at Niall. “I’ve already eaten?”

“I’m aware,” Niall says, still trying to get Harry to take it. “You know who _hasn’t_ eaten? The mouthy aggressive thing locked away in your cabin, and I sure as shit ain’t feeding him.”

“So make Danny do it,” Harry says impatiently, shoving the tray back at Niall. “Delegate your duties.”

Niall doesn’t take it. “Danny refused to do it. So did Kev and Robbie and Liam and Zayn. No one’s going to do it, which means that unless you want the royal prince of England to starve to death before we can even drop him off this one’s on you.”

“He won’t starve to death in two days,” Harry grumbles, but he takes the tray anyway, stomping his way over to his cabin and nodding to Patty, letting him know that he can take a break while Harry watches their captive.

The door swings open to silence and stillness. It takes a minute for Harry to register the fact that Louis is sleeping, curled in on himself as much as possible. He looks ten times smaller like this, guard down and sweet.

Harry drifts across the room slowly and sinks down onto his knees beside the hammock, setting the tray down beside his knee absently. He reaches out to touch, drag the pad of his thumb across Louis’ cheek, towards his mouth, see if it’s as soft as it looks, as sweet as it looks. Louis’ eyes flutter open before he gets there, soft and dazed. He blinks slowly, lips parting even more, flash of wet pink tongue, and for a few seconds - a few electric seconds - they’re just staring at each other, close enough that the sweet, ripe scent Harry hasn’t been able to get out of his brain is even more obvious.

They’re swaying closer, closer, and Harry can’t tear his gaze away from Louis’ mouth, can’t stop thinking about how it would taste, if he’d finally be able to figure out what that smell _tastes like_ \- 

A gust of wind blows in through the open window, hitting Harry directly in the face. He blinks rapidly and rears back, already cursing himself in his head. So much for not giving in to those instincts.

“I brought you food,” he says tersely, gesturing towards the tray, and shoves himself back up onto his feet, removing himself from the room so quickly he might as well be running away.

He’s not running away. He just has important things to do, that’s all. And if he takes to sleeping below deck with the crew that night, well. He is the Captain, and that is his prerogative.

 

They’re on course to Fortaleza, and it’s another bright, sunny day. Harry’s already stripped down to the lightest of clothing, sweaty and irritable, taking out his frustrations on a repair Niall’s been putting off for weeks, busy with other things. It’s a minor repair but it’s a time consuming one, one that needs to get done at some point, and the feel of the wood of his ship underneath Harry’s hands is comforting, familiar. More familiar than the scent that’s still trying to invade Harry’s nostrils, even with the distance between them.

He works steadily, hands quick and sure, and relishes in the strength of the sun beating down against his back and shoulders, his bare arms. He doesn’t stop until the unmistakable scent of food drifts through the air, close enough that he can almost taste it. Harry hasn’t taken his lunch yet, and the smell of the meat and bread has his stomach growling angrily.

“If you tell me that’s for the captive I’m going to put my fist through this wall,” Harry says, letting his hammer drop onto the ground beside him. “And I’ve only just finished repairing it.”

“It’s not only for the captive?” Niall tries. “Figured you might as well take it together. Y’know, since you haven’t eaten and I had to put a knife on the tray to cut the meat. Last thing we need is him getting his hands on a weapon.”

“Or I could just eat all of it,” Harry says, turning around and folding his arms across his chest. “One meal is plenty to last him the next two days. Give ‘im a bit of water and he’ll be fine.”

Niall raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “And have the King of England knowing that we intentionally starved his child for two days? I don’t think so.”

“So you go and feed him, then,” Harry snaps, running a hand through his hair. A bit of alpha bleeds into his tone unintentionally, but it’s not as though that has never happened before.

“No,” Niall says, placing the tray down. “You’re the one who made the decision to take him with us instead of leaving him for the Navy to find, you’re the one who gets to deal with the consequences.” He walks away. Harry could call after him, demand that he take the food to Louis, but if he did that Niall wouldn’t speak to him for days and Harry’s already been enough of a dick this week. And Niall has been taking on more than his fair share of duties lately, with the illness falling over almost half a dozen of their crew members.

Harry resigns himself to his fate and picks up the tray, stomping his way across the top deck to his cabin, banging the door open loudly. Louis startles, tangling himself in the hammock, and Harry can only watch helplessly as it flips over, landing Louis on the floor with his arms still caught up over his head.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Louis yelps, high pitched and shrieky. Harry smothers a laugh and shuts the door behind him, putting the tray of food down before making his way over to Louis’ side.

Louis’ entire body stiffens. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he spits out, trying and failing to edge away. There’s only so far he can go before he gets stuck, trapped between Harry’s body and the wall, and that’s the way he’ll stay if Harry doesn’t get him untangled.

Harry draws his knife. “I’m going to cut you free,” he warns. Louis freezes completely, so still he must barely be breathing, but he doesn’t protest, and he doesn’t start screaming again, which Harry takes for an agreement. The rope slices easily enough, falling from Louis’ wrists, and it doesn’t take more than a minute before he’s free.

And wastes no time trying to wrestle Harry’s knife right out of his hand, presumably to stab him with. The shock of the attempt is the only reason that he manages to pull it a few inches, both of his hands scrabbling for it.

Harry locks his muscles and doesn’t let him pull it any farther. “Stop it,” he says firmly.

“Give me the knife, you fucking caveman,” Louis yells, still struggling. Harry rolls his eyes and grabs one of his wrists firmly, yanking it into his lap.

“If you don’t stop I’m going to be forced to knock you out.”

Louis punches him in the dick.

Harry knocks him out. What other choice did he have.

 

He eats his meal in silence, sitting on the floor in front of Louis’ prone body. Once he’s finished he wipes his mouth off on the hem of his shirt and goes about tying Louis back to the hammock. There’s probably better places he could be put, but there’s a certain attractiveness to having him tied to Harry’s bed.

What. Harry’s an alpha, alright, and sometimes he gives in to his baser alpha instincts.

 

By the time supper rolls around, Harry is tired and in absolutely no mood to deal with a mouthy, stubborn omega, so he hides below deck and is absolutely not ashamed of himself. In fact, he’s kind of proud of himself. Niall’s a beta and by all rights that should make him easier to intimidate, but years of experience have taught Harry that’s not the case.

Well. At least, Harry’s proud of himself until the yelling starts.

“Five minutes of peace, is that too much to ask?” he grumbles, shoving himself to his feet and climbing the stairs, bursting out into the open air, right in the thick of things.

Louis has a knife. Louis is _brandishing_ a knife, actually, holding it in a way that suggests he actually knows how to use it.

Harry shouldn’t be surprised. Royal children are often taught how to use a weapon, after all, even if they’re O - _especially_ if they’re O, sometimes - but usually don’t know how to use a weapon in an actual fight.

Harry definitely knows how to use a weapon in a fight. The rest of Harry’s crew definitely know how to use a weapon in a fight. The only reason no one has proven it yet is because the person currently brandishing a knife is Prince Louis Tomlinson of Yorkshire, and they’re waiting on Harry’s command.

Harry won’t hesitate to give it to them if Louis makes a move.

For now, though, all he’s doing is keeping and Liam and Zayn at bay with pointed swipes of the knife. Harry rubs two fingers over his eyebrow and very carefully considers his next words. He’s got a splitting headache and the last thing he wants to do is make it worse by getting shrieked at some more. He’s had more than enough of that for the day.

“What do you plan on doing with that, exactly?” he wonders. Nothing has changed - they’re still two days out and there’s no other ships on the horizon. Even if Louis succeeds in escaping there’s nowhere for him to go except back into Harry’s cabin, probably with a gag this time. Maybe a blindfold, too, so Harry won’t have to deal with being glared at all the time.

Although he’d probably still be able to feel it. Louis has a pretty piercing glare.

Louis’ expression flickers. It looks like uncertainty. “I’m commandeering your vessel.”

Harry can’t stop himself from laughing. “No you’re not.”

“I am,” Louis says, tossing the knife to his other hand. It’s a pretty, neat move, one that shows off exactly how good he is with a knife, which Harry rather suspects is the point.

Zayn and Liam shift, muscles tense and ready. Harry takes a few meandering steps closer to where Louis is standing. “No, sweetheart, you’re not,” he says easily, gesturing out to his crew flanking him. “Because you’re out-numbered and we’re planning on getting rid of you the second we have a chance anyway. Now be a good little omega and drop the knife.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Louis’ eyes flash and he’s moving, quick and sure, slipping past Liam easily, already bringing the knife up. The intent is clearly to stab Harry, maybe even in the face.

This is far from Harry’s first knife fight, though.

“You sure you want to do that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Louis doesn’t answer, slashing at him quickly.

Harry side steps him and crashes his elbow against Louis’ shoulder, causing him to drop the knife. Louis falls to his knees in an attempt to grab it, but Harry’s tired. He’s hot and exhausted and he wants to sleep in his own bed tonight, but instead he’s going to be stuck on the floor again because of some mouthy little omega prince.

He grabs Louis by the back of the neck and squeezes firmly. The entire ship goes quiet.

An alpha touching an omega at the base of their neck isn’t uncommon. It happens all the time, in people’s homes, on the streets, at the shops. Literally everywhere.

It happens all the time and everywhere but there’s no denying there’s a certain intimacy to the act, one that’s normally reserved for couples or people who have romantic intentions.

Now, at least. There used to be days where an alpha would squeeze an omega at the base of their neck to subdue them, and it’s an instinct Harry’s never had before today.

He pulls Louis up before anyone has a chance to say anything, practically tossing him back inside the cabin and slamming the door shut behind them, effectively drowning out the murmur of voices that starts up immediately. Louis rolls back onto his feet, lithe and fast, putting up his fists and widening his stance.

Seriously. How is he so fast.

Harry sighs. “Are you _sure_ you want to do this?” he presses.

Louis’ only response is to take a swing at him. Harry catches him by the wrist and yanks, pulling him off balance. He comes crashing into Harry’s body, spitting curses and struggling to free himself. Harry grabs his other wrist, more or less pinning him fully.

“Your dick will be mine!” Louis shouts, still struggling, all pointy, flailing elbows. He catches Harry in the ribs, hard enough Harry has to gasp for breath, and that’s it.

He’s tired and cranky and still sweaty, not wearing a shirt, and he has a tiny little omega flailing up against him in ways that are begging his cock to start responding. There’s really only one way to deal with this situation.

“What would you do if it was yours?” he asks, dropping his voice a couple of octaves, not quite alpha tone but close, and lifts Louis up onto his toes at the same time. It leaves them pressed very close together, Louis’ back to Harry’s chest, and Harry can’t stop his cock from thickening up a little. Doesn’t even try.

“How many times a day would you need it?” Harry continues, bringing both of Louis’ wrists up to his chest and transferring them to one hand, pinning them there easily. “Probably never be able to get enough of it, sweetheart, would you? Want it all the time, wouldn’t you? _Need_ it all the time. Beg me for it.”

Now that he’s started it’s like he can’t stop, listening to the cadence of Louis’ breathing, quick and uneven, feeling the strain of his muscles as he hangs in Harry’s grip, the quick, almost harsh movements of his shoulders as he breathes.

How lithe he is, how his wrists fit in Harry’s hand so easily, how perfect he feels against Harry’s body, even as he struggles. How Harry’s cock is pressing up against the fly of his trousers, half-hard already, just from the sweet, ripe smell of this omega.

It’s just their hormones clashing. It’s just their hormones clashing, reacting to each other, but there’s not a single person on this ship who can’t smell it, which explains why everything is suddenly so quiet.

Harry doesn’t have time for this. He lifts a little higher, dragging Louis up onto his toes again, and then marches them back over to the hammock.

Louis twists in his grip, wiggling free yet again, and backs himself into a corner, sweeping a book up off the floor and into his hand, brandishing it.

Seriously. What is his plan.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against a wall, not even bothering to step farther into the room. He’s tired and he wants to sleep and there’s no way that’s going to happen when he has possibly the feistiest omega in the entire world trying to remove his head with a book.

“There’s two ways this could go,” Harry starts. “One is that you put the book down and let me tie you up without trying to scar me.”

“And the second one?” Louis asks immediately.

Christ. Is he ever going to stop being a royal brat? “The second one is that you try to hit me with the book and I nearly break your arm getting it away from you, and then I knock you out again so I can tie you up.”

Louis shifts on the balls of his feet, still tense and ready to hit Harry if he comes close enough. Harry’s head throbs a little harder.

His actual head, not the one in between his legs. Although that one’s still harder than it has any right to be.

“There’s a third way,” Louis says. Harry inhales slowly and resists the urge to tell him exactly where he can shove his third option. It’s still too quiet outside for the entire crew not to be crowded around the door, listening to how this is going.

Nosy little fuckers, all of ‘em.

“I could knock _you_ out with this book,” Louis says, waving the book around as though Harry’s forgotten he has it, “and then take over your ship.”

“You could _try_ to knock me out with that book,” Harry says, slouching more comfortably. This conversation is clearly going nowhere and he’s tired enough that Louis doesn’t seem like much of a threat anymore. There’s nowhere for him to go that isn’t through Harry and he still looks a little skittish. “And then I’ll gag you until we reach Fortaleza so I don’t have to listen to your whining anymore.”

Louis’ eyes look a little darker than they did a minute ago. It must be the light. “I bite,” he says silkily, mouth pink and wet, and for a second Harry can’t make himself stop thinking about it, about how that mouth would feel underneath his, needy and demanding, biting when Harry doesn’t give him what he wants.

The sweet smell gets a little thicker.

“What?” Harry asks, a little dazed.

The only answer he gets is Louis launching himself at him, bringing the book down as Harry shoves his left hand up to block it, grabbing Louis’ forearm with the other and twisting it behind his back. It takes two seconds, all told, and it leaves them pressed up tight, hips nearly flush.

Again.

“Stop it,” Harry says firmly. Louis kicks at him, nearly losing his balance in the process. In fact, the only thing keeping him upright is Harry’s grip on him.

The incessant kicking is bound to make Harry’s ankles a little sore in the morning, which he’d like to avoid, so it seems only natural to swing them around and shove Louis down face first over the table. It’s easy enough to do, too. Louis is light, easy to move.

He doesn’t realize how it looks until Louis starts screeching again, biting at Harry’s hand as he slaps it over his mouth, trying to silence him. It’s as effective as one would expect, muffling him a little but not nearly enough.

The creak of the door swinging open behind them couldn’t have come at a worse time. What kind of Captain is Harry going to look like to his crew if he can’t even wrangle one omega into obeying him.

“You want I should bash something over his head again?” Niall asks hopefully.

_Yes_. “No,” Harry says, shaking Louis’ wrists to get his attention. “Unless you don’t stop screeching. In which case _I’m_ going to be the one to bash something over your head.”

It would be nice to say Louis instantly goes still. It would be nice, but it would also be a lie. Louis takes a solid two minutes to stop, still grumbling to himself, wood creaking underneath his weight as he keeps squirming, trying to find a way out of Harry’s grasp.

Seriously, though. Harry’s never met a person with such poorly planned escape routes in his entire life. There’s still literally nowhere for him to go, and now he’d have to go through Niall as well.

“Don’t tie me up again,” Louis demands. 

What kind of position he thinks he’s in to be giving demands, Harry doesn’t know. “After that little display of yours?” he asks incredulously. “You’re lucky if the crew doesn’t demand we throw you overboard.”

“The crew,” Louis mutters, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. “My father will have all of your heads.”

“So you’ve said,” Harry replies, gripping Louis’ wrists a little tighter, feeling the fragility of his bones underneath Harry’s fingertips. “It wouldn’t be the first time we were chased by some form of authority only to manage to escape.”

“If you tie me up again I will make it my life’s mission to ensure that doesn’t happen,” Louis promises.

Harry takes the rope Niall’s been attempting to hand him for the past two minutes. “Forgive me if I’m not scared, little prince,” he says, binding Louis’ wrists together easily. Louis doesn’t even fight him on it, docile for the first time since he was taken aboard.

At least, Harry thinks he’s being docile. That thought lasts approximately seven seconds before Louis stomps on his foot, heel catching Harry’s toes hard enough for them to immediately start throbbing.

“Call me little prince _one more fucking time_ ,” Louis warns.

Harry shoves him back down onto the table and holds him there with one hand on the back of his neck. “Get out,” he tells Niall, but Niall’s already mostly gone, door clicking closed behind him quietly.

“Wanted to get me alone, did you?” Louis demands. There’s a waver in his voice that he’s trying to hide, but it’s not going so well.

Suddenly, Harry’s more than aware of how tightly they’re pressed together, of how _long_ they’ve been pressed together for. He lets go and takes a step back all at once, and then another when that first one doesn’t give them enough space. It’s hot in the room, muggy, and he can’t quite manage to convince himself to take his eyes off of Louis’ body, still splayed out over the table.

He looks like he’s offering something he’s really not.

“Get on the bed,” Harry says. His voice comes out much rougher than he had been intending it to.

Louis twists his entire body to scowl at him over his shoulder. “ _Excuse me_?”

Jesus. Harry must be getting close to his rut. That’s the only explanation for why his brain isn’t co-operating with his mouth. “So I can secure you to it,” he adds hastily.

“No,” Louis says. If he wasn’t tied up he’d probably be crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry tries very hard not to grit his teeth. He has pretty good teeth and he’d like not to destroy them just because they have the mouthiest prisoner even known to the human race. “I’ll make you if I have to.”

“You’ll _try_ to make me,” Louis corrects.

Harry has a pretty decent amount of patience - he has to, given his job - but he has his limits just like everyone else. This is his.

It feels good to cross those three steps back to where Louis is still bent over the table and haul him up, drag him across the room to the hammock, swinging gently from their movements, and toss him down onto it as if he doesn’t weigh more than a feather.

Louis bounces a little, despite the lack of buoyancy in the spot he lands, limbs flailing. He lands face first and apparently can’t manage to roll himself over, arse on display and practically in Harry’s face, begging to be touched or bitten or licked.

Christ, Harry wants to lick him.

“Are you going to bite me if I turn you over?” Harry wonders, trailing his fingers down Louis’ warm, bare arm, up towards his shoulder.

He barely manages to avoid the snap of teeth Louis aims in his general direction. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Tying Louis’ wrists to the hammock is easy enough as they’re behind his back, leaving enough give in the ropes that he’ll be able to turn over as soon as Harry stops pressing him down.

It’s a lot more effort than it should be to convince his hands to let go of Louis’ body, and nearly double that to convince himself to stagger out the door to where his crew is waiting for him, almost breathless.

This might turn out to be a lot more trouble than Harry had been anticipating.

 

He sleeps below deck with the rest of the crew again that night, unable to stop himself from inhaling deeply, trying to catch the sweet, rich scent of omega on the winds, cock stubbornly refusing to go down below half mast.

Still, though. Morning eventually comes, like it always does.

 

Harry manages to avoid returning to his cabin until after midday, busying himself with the running of his ship and crew. In fact, he’s made himself so busy that the only reason he goes back to his cabin at all is because his shirt has soaked through with sweat, and quite frankly it’s become disgusting.

The shirt if halfway over his head as he walks into his cabin, and to be perfectly honest he’s nearly forgotten there’s someone in there to take offense at Harry’s bare chest.

Except the sharp inhale of breath he hears doesn’t come from Louis.

“Niall?” Harry asks dumbly, half lost in the shirt.

“Jesus, Harry, you almost made me choke on my bread,” Niall exclaims, hurling a piece of said bread at Harry’s head. Niall has the best aim of anyone Harry’s ever known, so it makes contact and bounces off, landing uselessly on the floor.

Harry blinks. “What are you doing in here?”

For a second, he’s almost worried that Louis has somehow managed to convince Niall to untie him. It’s Niall, though, and Niall is definitely not stupid. Plus Louis’ hands are visibly folded together in his lap, still bound by the rope.

“Someone had to bring ‘im his lunch, didn’t they,” Niall grumbles, throwing another piece of bread in Harry’s direction. Harry catches it this time, popping it into his mouth as he struggles to get his shirt off all the way.

“This is what I’ve been dealing with, Nialler,” Louis laments. Harry’s hands pop free of the shirt in time to squint at the two of them suspiciously, sitting close enough together on the hammock they’d be able to touch if they wanted to.

Close enough that Louis would probably be able to do some real harm to Niall before Niall could defend himself.

Niall only laughs. “I’d tell you to get used to it if you were gonna be sticking around,” he says, gesturing to Harry loosely. “This lot strips at the drop of a hat. You’re lucky you haven’t seen ‘im lumbering around naked yet.”

How did this happen. Harry doesn’t understand what’s going on right now.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks.

“Slow, ain’t he?” Louis asks, giving Harry a disdainful look from underneath his eyelashes.

Fuck it. Harry doesn’t even care anymore. He grabs a shirt and leaves the room without even putting it on, letting the door slam behind him.

He can’t wait until they reach Fortaleza.

 

It’s just one more night until they arrive in Fortaleza. It’s one more night, and if Harry doesn’t want to look too weak to the rest of his crew he has to spend it in his own cabin.

He still puts it off as long as possible, until the moon’s gleaming over the water and the stars are high in the sky. He’s hoping Louis is asleep, that he won’t have to deal with another night of an entirely too mouthy little omega sniping at him incessantly.

Of course, that’s too much to ask for. Louis is asleep when Harry enters, but he startles awake as soon as Harry closes the door, even though he does it gently, blinking his eyes open and shrinking back into himself, trying to make himself smaller.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for him when he looks like that. He’s been a right pain in the arse the entire time he’s been on board, but he’s an omega being held captive on a pirate ship. That’s plenty reason enough for him to have been so irritating. He smells like the type of omega to hide their fear behind a mask of sarcasm and indifference.

There’s enough food for two sitting on a platter on the table against the wall. Harry’s almost feeling petulant enough to ignore it altogether and go to sleep without eating. The sound his stomach makes, grumbling loudly, is enough to ensure that it’s not going to happen.

“I do not have enough energy to deal with you being crazy right now,” Harry announces, snagging the platter off the table and settling himself a few feet away from the hammock. “So if you take it upon yourself to try to stab me with your fingernails or something I’m going to throw you overboard. Understand?”

“Niall told me that you send a portion of everything you make back home to his family,” Louis says.

Harry’s back stiffens. Niall talks a lot, to anyone and everyone, but he doesn’t talk about things that should remain private unless he trusts someone. Which begs the question - what did Louis say to get Niall to trust him? Niall, of all people. The person Louis held a knife to.

“Aye,” Harry agrees, the word slipping past his lips unintentionally. He nudges a plate full of food closer to Louis’ position and pretends as though he hadn’t just let that slip.

“What about your family?” Louis asks, ignoring the food. “Do you send money to them as well?”

Harry’s family is long since dead. He didn’t get into piracy by way of chance, after all, but that’s not a discussion he’s willing to have with a nosy little omega prince. That’s not a discussion he’s willing to have with someone he barely knows. “What about _your_ family? Haven’t seen hide nor hair of the British Navy in the three days we’ve had you. Did you do something to piss off your daddy?”

“My daddy is the King of England,” Louis informs him haughtily, straining his arms to reach for the plate, a little too far away. Harry just watches and doesn’t make a move to help. It makes a pretty picture and he wasn’t joking about being tired. “He has very important things to do. And there’s no way my mum would sit by while I’m missing without insisting people are sent out to look for me. So they’re definitely coming.”

“Good. They can pick you up in Brazil, then,” Harry says, ripping off a chunk of bread with his teeth. It’s going slightly stale - they’ll need to pick up some supplies when they dock.

“They will,” Louis says certainly. “The first thing I’m going to do when I’m found is have a bath. You haven’t exactly been accommodating hosts.”

Again. “We were accommodating enough to take you off the ship that wanted to sell you into the sex trade,” Harry points out. He regrets the words the second they’re out of his mouth. They may be true but there’s no need to say them - Louis must already be thinking about it enough.

Louis sniffs and picks at the cheese, breaking off the tiniest little piece and putting it up to his mouth. “You have yet to prove that,” he says. “For all I know you could be keeping me for yourself and lying when you say you’re going to release me.”

“Not sure how many times I’m going to have to tell you that you’re not that pretty, sweetheart,” Harry says, unable to stop watching as Louis nibbles at the cheese, pretty little mouth working as he chews.

“Changed my mind,” Louis says, breaking off another piece of cheese. “First thing I’m gonna do when you set me free is stab you in the back. Tired of being called _sweetheart_.”

Harry pops another piece of bread into his own mouth and chews before he answers. “Prefer _Your Highness_? _My liege_? _Little prince_?”

Christ. Louis’ scowl is so fucking attractive Harry can barely stand to look at it. “I’ll demand to be the one to draw the sword across your neck,” Louis says, wiping his hand on his trousers, smearing dirt and grease all over the fabric. Not that it really makes a difference. “I feel disgusting.”

“You look it, too,” Harry responds automatically, and then freezes, just as automatically.

“You’ll be the first person I kill,” Louis says dreamily, picking apart the bread almost daintily. “Or maybe you’ll be the only person I kill. Maybe I’ll just take my time with you, really drag it out.”

He’s not actually talking about sex, but Harry can’t stop his body from responding as if he is, instincts threatening to overtake his common sense. He has to clear his throat a couple of times before he can respond. “You can try.”

“There’s a sword in the weapons room that’s been handed down over six generations,” Louis says wistfully, eating a tiny bit of the bread. “I learned how to wield a sword on it. It’s probably pretty dull by now but that will just make it hurt more, don’t you think?”

Harry leans back against the wall and stretches his legs out in front of him. “That’s generally been my experience,” he agrees.

Louis stretches himself out along the hammock, plate of food abandoned on the ground beneath him. His fingers dangle off the edge, dangerously close to Harry’s arm. “I wouldn’t stab you, though,” he murmurs, wiggling his fingers. If he tried he could probably touch Harry’s knee.

It’s been too long of a day to bother moving away. “No?”

“I’d cut you,” Louis says. His eyes are slipping closed, fingers curling to grip the edge of the hammock. There’s enough rope left over from how he’s tied that he could slip down and choke Harry to death without even straining himself. “Let you bleed out slowly.”

“Better ensure you’ve got me tied up well,” Harry says, his own eyes threatening to slip shut. “Else it’ll never work.”

Maybe Louis says something in return. Harry falls asleep before he can hear it, the smell of strawberries and vanilla invading all of his senses.

 

Waking up is like drifting slowly through a warm fog, not sure which way is out but not really caring, either, drifting mindlessly, stroking warm, bare skin over and over again.

Part of the reason he feels like that is because he is stroking warm, bare skin repeatedly, fingers nudged up underneath the hem of Louis’ shirt, touching his belly. They must have moved at some point during the night, drifted closer together. Louis is hanging half off the hammock, half in Harry’s lap, twisted at an awkward angle, hands wrenched to the side. Harry’s still on the floor, twinge in his neck and hands full of warm, sleepy boy, and he wants to untie the ropes, ease Louis into his lap, fill him up with his cock before Louis is even fully awake.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, voice raspy. He eases his hands off Louis’ body slowly, already missing the warmth of him. Louis makes a soft, sleepy noise that goes directly to Harry’s cock in the worst possible way, trying to tug his arms down. The urge to help him, soothe his soft skin, is almost overwhelming.

Harry can’t get out of the room fast enough. A few more hours and they’ll be at the docks in Fortaleza. It feels like ages away.

 

Of course, nothing in Harry’s life ever goes smoothly. They’re so close to land Harry can almost taste it, so close to being able to dock the ship and get some distance between them and this brat of an omega.

Naturally, that’s when the ruckus starts.

Harry’s at the helm, about fifteen feet away from his quarters, so obviously he can hear it.

He pretends like he can’t anyway. Maybe if he waits it out Louis will tire himself out and take a nap instead of being a nuisance. One can hope, right?

Nothing in Harry’s life has ever been that easy. To their credit, his crew also manages to ignore it for a while, going about their duties as though nothing is happening.

Zayn claps him on the back, passing him as he heads to the mast. “You can stand there as long as you want, mate, but the only thing that’s gonna happen is he’s going to destroy your cabin and none of us are going to stop him. So if you want any of your shit in one piece it’s up to you.”

Harry grits his teeth and nods. Zayn’s right and they both know it.

He still spends a bit longer than truly necessary psyching himself up before he pries his hands off the helm and stalks towards the door, mouth set in a thin, flat line. He opens the door like a normal human being, despite his nearly overwhelming urge to kick it in.

Immediately, he’s nailed in the head by a flying book. “Fuck,” he mutters, slamming the door closed behind him and moving fast, narrowly avoiding getting hit by another two items as he goes. It’s a struggle, subduing Louis, but he manages, trapping him against Harry’s chest so tightly that all Louis can do is flail uselessly.

“Stop it,” Harry snaps, alpha voice and everything, and he doesn’t actually expect it to work. It’s more of a desperate plea than anything, just enough alpha timbre in it to make it an order, but it’s a weak one at best.

Somehow, it still works. Louis goes limp against him, sweet and pliant in Harry’s arms, nape of his neck in the perfect position for Harry to bite at.

Harry can’t let him go fast enough. “Must you always be such a brat?” he manages. His voice even sounds almost normal, only a shade rougher than it usually does.

Louis stomps on Harry’s toes before darting to the other side of the room, putting his back against the wall. “I want something to eat.”

“You destroyed my quarters because you’re _hungry_?” Harry asks incredulously.

Defiant, Louis tips his chin up. “Yes.”

Jesus Christ. Harry doesn’t even bother answering, spinning around on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him even harder than he had when he entered.

 

Shore doesn’t come nearly quick enough. They make it eventually, because they have to, and when they’re a few miles out, Harry tosses a terse, “Get him ready,” over his shoulder. Someone does, and by the time they’re docked Harry’s become more than adept at ignoring the weird feeling sitting in the middle of his chest.

Liam brings Louis out of the cabin still bound, wrists tied in front of him. He cuts Louis loose while Louis is still stumbling to find his footing, giving him a gentle shove towards his debarkment.

“You’re free,” Harry says, as Louis hesitates. “That’s what you wanted, right? To be free so you can set your father’s men after us? Well, this is your chance.”

Louis’ expression is unreadable. “Yes,” is all he says, spinning around and marching himself off the ship, down onto the dock.

“Good riddance,” Harry mutters, cracking his back and absolutely _not_ watching him go, swaying his arse as he walks, still barefoot and dirty.

He makes it about fifty feet.

Liam makes a vaguely horrified noise. “No,” Harry says pre-emptively. Louis flails, struggles, screams. Onlookers do absolutely nothing to come to his aid. “No,” Harry says again. Louis kicks as one of the men hauls him over his shoulder, aided by three of his friends. Louis never even stood a chance.

They probably recognized an omega by himself and decided to take their chances at kidnapping him. And that is - that can’t happen after they _just_ rescued Louis from that exact same fate.

“No,” Harry says, one more time, even as he’s catching the sword Liam tosses at him, debarking quickly, breaking into a full out run, jumping over boxes and ropes with Liam at his back. The four men have a fairly significant head start, making their way through the throng of people quickly, heading off the docks entirely, towards the city.

If they make it to the city there’s a good chance they’ll be able to disappear with Louis completely.

“Liam!” Harry shouts, gaining ground but not fast enough.

“I know, I know!” Liam shouts back, cutting off to the side. Harry loses sight of him, still fixed on the fleeing men in front of him, on Louis hanging over the biggest one’s shoulder, pounding his fists and still screeching.

At least he’s consistent about the amount of noise he makes.

Harry catches up just in time, just before they make it into a heavy crowd of people, throwing himself into the fight quickly, sword clanging as he slashes and parries. His odds aren’t very good, at least not without back-up, but before he can start to worry about it Liam’s coming in around the other side, surrounding the group, and then their odds are much better.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget exactly why Liam is his second in command, particularly when he’s nagging Harry about things he’s already got under control. Now, though, it’s all coming back to him as they move together, fight together, working with each other quickly and efficiently. It’s really no surprise when the last man flees before they can even get started on him.

“I fucking love a good fight,” Harry says, sweaty and enthusiastic, dropping his sword down to his side. Liam grins back at him, just as sweaty and maniacal, and the endorphins of the fight are almost enough that Harry has forgotten why they were in a fight in the first place.

The staring of the gathering crowd starts permeating the fog, though. “So the first plan clearly isn’t going to work,” Liam says.

“No,” Harry agrees. He hauls Louis to his feet easily, as if he weighs nothing, and steadies him, not letting go. “Let’s get you back to the ship and figure out how we’re going to get you home.”

There’s a bit of blood dripping down the side of Louis’ face, onto Harry’s arm. “You’re bleeding,” Louis says, dazed, reaching out and smearing the blood along Harry’s skin. That sweet scent gets even brighter, sharper.

“Not really,” Harry says, brows furrowing a bit. Louis slumps a bit more, causing Harry to take more of his weight, the most docile Harry has ever seen him. “It’s your blood.” He holds Louis up with one arm and uses his free hand to prod at the spot the blood’s coming from, fingers coming away slick and red.

“Might want to start thinking about getting out of here,” Liam says, shifting his stance so he’s blocking them better.

“I don’t bleed,” Louis slurs, eyelashes fluttering. “I have royal blood.”

The crowd’s murmuring gets thicker. “Okay then,” Harry says, sweeping Louis’ legs out from underneath him just as his eyes close completely, unconscious. He strides all the way back to the ship, following Liam’s broad back, and enters with Louis still in his arms, all too aware of the way the entire crew is staring at them.

“So I guess we’re not dropping him off here after all,” Niall says.

 

They have another conversation, Harry and his lads, crammed inside of his quarters this time, standing over Louis’ prone body as they discuss his future.

“We can try letting him go again,” Harry says hopefully, moving one of Louis’ arms so it’s not dangling off the edge of the hammock.

“Right, because you weren’t the one who went running when he got himself into the first hint of trouble,” Zayn mutters. Harry chooses to ignore it.

Liam’s watching Louis sleep with a nearly unreadable expression on his face. “I don’t like it,” he says, “but I don’t think we can. The last thing we need is for him to get himself kidnapped again and run the risk of the Navy coming after us for letting it happen.”

“The gold,” Niall says dreamily. “There’s going to be _so much gold_.”

“They’re already after us,” Harry says pointedly. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re pirates, Li.”

“Not the way they would be if we left him to fend for himself,” Liam says stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Just because he’s being stubborn doesn’t mean that he’s wrong. Still, though. “We could try,” Harry says weakly. “We could even leave him a sword to defend himself with.”

Niall snorts. “Mate, I’m pretty sure if you handed him a sword the first thing he’d do would be try to stab you with it.”

“It was a nice idea,” Harry laments sadly, letting his head drop back against the wall behind him.

Zayn claps him on the back. “Sure it was,” he says unconvincingly.

 

Louis wakes up a little bit later, eyelashes fluttering open slowly. He gazes around the room a little dully, eyes flitting over Harry’s belongings as though he’s never seen any of it before.

“You’re safe,” is the first thing that comes out of Harry’s mouth. He does his best to hide his wince, unsure of why he’d even said it.

Louis wets his lips, considering. “You made sure I was safe?”

“Aye,” Harry says, and then immediately backpedals. There must be something in the air messing with his brain. “The crew did.”

There’s something entirely too knowing in Louis’ sharp gaze. “But you still tied me up. Even though you’re planning to let me go.”

Harry snorts. “Your track record of attempting to hit me with things is well established,” he says. “We’re setting course for England. We’ll release you somewhere close enough you’ll be able to make it the rest of the way on your own safely.”

“And how long will that take?” Louis asks, rubbing his wrists together pointedly. “You can’t reasonably expect me to sit in your cabin for the next two weeks tied to your bed.”

He’s not wrong about the voyage taking about a fortnight, provided everything goes according to plan. He also did the calculation much faster than Harry had been expecting him to, which is something to remember. It’s always good to know the strengths and weaknesses of a prisoner, and so far Harry’s learned a few about Louis.

“If you can be a reasonable human being for the next few days I’ll consider it,” Harry tells him.

Abruptly, Louis drops his vaguely friendly demeanor. “You’re a bilge rat,” he shouts, twisting uselessly, straining at the restraints. “A _knave_ ,” he spits, as if Harry hasn’t been called much worse. “You’ll hang for this, I’ll see to it!”

So much for being a reasonable human being. Harry leaves him to it, shutting the door firmly as he walks out.

 

 

The wind is with them all day. They make good distance, and by the time Harry’s ready to call it a day he’s in a good mood. He takes a jug of ale with him as he makes his way to his cabin, and nearly forgets what waits for him in his quarters.

It’s quiet when he enters. Louis is lying on the hammock, loose from the ropes, using one foot to swing himself gently. His shirt is rucked up his belly, book in hand. He doesn’t even glance up when Harry closes the door.

“You’re much better at getting out of restraints than you look like you would be,” Harry observes. Louis barely even looks at him. The alpha in Harry bristles, offended that this tiny little omega is ignoring him, pretending like he doesn’t exist, when Harry’s been taking care of him for days.

The alpha in Harry wants to force him to pay attention. It’s a hard urge to resist.

“Because I’m O?” Louis asks scathingly, still focused on his book. On Harry’s book. On the book he’s taken from Harry’s pile of possessions without Harry’s consent.

“Because you’re royal,” Harry answers.

Louis glances up, just for a second before he’s looking away again. “You’ll get used to it,” he says.

It’s dismissive. It’s dismissive in a way Louis probably used to dismiss his servants when he lead a rich, powerful life of being a prince.

That’s not his life anymore. Not right now, at least, and Harry’s not going to be dismissed from his own cabin. Not until he’s good and ready to be dismissed.

“And _you_ are going to get used to being re-bound until we reach England,” Harry says simply, grabbing the rope off the table, where Louis must have set it earlier.

Again, Louis doesn’t look up. “No I’m not.”

_Yes you are_ very nearly comes out of Harry’s mouth. He bites it back and strides over to where Louis is sitting, letting the rope snap against his own hands threateningly. “Hold out your wrists.”

“No,” Louis repeats calmly, still focused on the book.

The urge to put a bit of alpha voice into it is nearly overwhelming. Harry doesn’t. This is the King of England’s son sitting here in front of him, after all, and Harry was incredibly serious about not wanting to have his head forcibly removed from his body.

There’s a difference between doing something that’s technically illegal and actively being pursued for it, after all.

“I don’t trust you,” Harry says tersely.

“You shouldn’t,” Louis says, licking his thumb and turning a page. For a split second, Harry’s transfixed by it, by the wet sheen of it, nimble and sure as he touches Harry’s things. The things he doesn’t have permission to be touching.

“I’ll make you if I have to,” Harry threatens, winding the rope around his hand for something to do, something that will prevent him from reaching out and touching.

Louis sighs and finally looks up again. “Look. It’s going to be at least another thirteen days until we reach England, right? We both know that I’m not going to consent to staying tied up the entire way and that I’ll keep breaking out every chance I get. So really, isn’t it just easier not to tie me up at all?”

Harry stares at him. “What part of _I don’t trust you around my things_ don’t you understand?”

Louis stares back. “What part of _I will scream bloody murder until my voice gives out every time you try to tie me up_ don’t _you_ understand?”

It’s a stalemate, then. Harry narrows his eyes and folds his arms across his chest, making no effort to appear smaller than he actually is. It’s an alpha tactic Harry isn’t necessarily proud of using.

Louis only rolls his eyes and goes back to his book, tucking one foot underneath his thigh and leaning back against the wall.

It’s definitely admitting defeat when Harry says, “If you touch anything I’m going to tie you to the flag post until we reach England.”

 

Harry’s control is slipping and he knows it. The only logical way to solve this problem is to regain some of his control over his own living space. 

He stomps into his cabin and throws a few extra blankets onto the floor. “You’re sleeping on the ground from here on out,” he says. Knows he says it with every single hint of irritation and confidence he feels, which is quite a lot.

“No,” Louis says. There’s a pile of books surrounding him. Books that belong to Harry.

Harry takes a deep breath. Tries to convince himself that Louis actually is the King’s son and that throttling him would be a terrible life decision on Harry’s part. Very nearly manages, too.

“This is my cabin,” he says slowly, almost calmly. “I’m the Captain of this ship. You’ll sleep on the floor in here or you’ll sleep on the deck outside. Your choice.”

Louis stands slowly, arching his back and stretching his arms out over his head, thin material of his shirt creeping up his flat stomach. He’s not a threat, at least not anymore, it seems.

Harry’s gums still ache with the urge to make him submit.

“I’m the firstborn son to the King of England,” Louis starts, letting his arms drop back down to his sides. “I will not sleep on the floor.”

“You slept on the floor while you were kidnapped,” Harry mutters, more to himself than anything, and drags a hand over his face. “Is the floor not good enough for your royal highness?”

He can hear the stomp of Louis’ footsteps coming towards him. He doesn’t drag his hand away from his face. At least if Louis decides to stab him he won’t have to deal with this shit anymore.

Harry’s the fucking _Captain_ , that’s all he’s saying. People should listen to him. Especially people who are still technically his captive.

“Do you know what will be in it for you if I have a place to sleep that isn’t on the floor?” Louis asks softly, reaching out and touching Harry’s elbow gently. It’s very far from stabbing.

It’s also almost electrifying, but Harry can really only pay attention to one of those things.

“Not having my head forcibly removed from my body?” Harry guesses, trying to figure out whether he should pull away or push into the touch. Doesn’t end up doing either.

“I will be forever in your debt,” Louis says, inching closer, more into Harry’s space. The movement creeps underneath Harry’s skin.

It’s not that Harry has a strictly defined sense of personal space, because he can’t, not living and breathing and working on top of forty other men the way he does, but he definitely has a sense of personal space when it comes to pretty little omegas who are so close he can almost taste them.

Pretty little conniving omegas who are trying to secure Harry’s sleeping space for themselves. Harry isn’t falling for it.

“You’re already in my debt, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sliding his own fingers across the inside of Louis’ wrist, barely resisting the urge to clamp a tight grip around it and pull him into Harry’s body, make him lose his balance, use Harry’s chest to keep himself upright. “Saved you from being sold to the highest bidder, didn’t I.”

“But imagine all the gold I could get you if I had reason,” Louis coaxes, allowing Harry to trail his fingers across his arm.

Harry would very much like to kiss him, taste the inside of his mouth, see if it’s as silky as he thinks it is. Harry also wants to keep his head.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” Harry repeats, taking a step back and folding his arms across his chest. It doesn’t do anything to lessen the thick fog of lust in his head.

Louis scowls and yanks the blankets off the hammock, stomping over to the corner of the room and throwing them down. He doesn’t give Harry another glance as he flops down into them, curling up with his back to the door.

There’s something inherently trusting about it. Harry could do _anything_ to him. Anything. Overpower him, beat him senseless, _fuck_ him senseless, and he’s just gone and turned his back to the alpha in the room.

To sleep. He’s gone and turned his back on the alpha in the room because he’s intending to go to sleep. With an alpha in the room.

Fuck. Maybe Harry’s going crazy. Louis has slept in the same room as him since they liberated him from _The Tide_. There’s nothing different about it this time.

_Except the way he’s free to sleep however he wants and however he wants looks like he wants someone to curl up around his back and keep him warm_ , Harry’s traitorous brain insists.

“Fuck,” he says out loud, trying to shake the weird thoughts out of his brain. Louis peers at him over his shoulder for a second, rolls his eyes and goes back to facing his corner.

Okay. It’s just sleep. Harry can do this. He’s been sleeping his entire life, after all. He can definitely do this. He stalks over to his hammock and tumbles himself into it for the first time in nearly a week, relishing in the feeling of not having to sleep on the floor.

For approximately five seconds. Then, the scent of strawberries wafts into his nostrils, combined with something else Harry can’t quite put his finger on. It’s sweet and fruity, and Harry can’t fucking sleep because of it.

He tries. He tries while the minutes tick by, eyes squeezed shut and trying to regulate his breathing, but that’s only making things worse, that light scent all over him, calling to him. Asking him to get his own scent mixed up in it, make them smell like one. Like they belong together.

“What the fuck,” Harry says out loud, letting his eyes drift open.

On the floor, Louis stirs, shifting over onto his back, shirt riding up, but he doesn’t wake. The entirely irrational urge to get down onto the floor and shake him awake runs through Harry’s veins, and he can’t take this anymore. Can’t take that sweet smell, can’t take the sight of pale exposed skin on Louis’ belly, can’t take the knowledge that this lovely omega is sleeping peacefully in the same room as an alpha who could tear him apart, make space for himself inside Louis’ body and refuse to ever come out.

It’s possible that he’s too loud as he shoves himself to his feet and lets himself out of the room, breathing in the smell of salt and seat. The scent of strawberries lingers in his nose for much longer than he would like, and if Harry’s being honest with himself, it doesn’t ever completely fade.

 

There’s plenty of work for Harry to do on a daily basis. Navigation, planning and the actual sailing are among the top three. He has moments to himself, of course, but there’s generally a full day’s worth of work every day.

Naturally, that means he’s not watching the door to his cabin every single second of the day. In fact, he doesn’t even notice that something’s amiss until he catches a glimpse of light brown hair out of the corner of his eye.

Really, it could be anyone. Tons of Harry’s crew have light brown hair. For some reason, he turns to look, and it’s Louis, leaning against the railing, looking down at the water.

For a split second, Harry thinks he’s planning to jump. The idea quickly passes as Louis keeps standing there, hands braced on the railing, unmoving. It’s not a particularly nice day out, water choppy and clouds looming overhead, but Louis seems entranced anyway.

Harry abandons his task and makes his way over to where Louis is standing. “You’re supposed to remain in my cabin.”

Louis continues looking out at the water. “I’m supposed to do a lot of things,” he says. “Technically speaking I’m supposed to be in England right now, showing a bunch of aristocrats around my home.”

For some reason, Harry’s automatic response to that is, “Are you really?”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “No, I’ve no idea. But it’s entirely possible.”

“Well, you’ll be home to show aristocrats around soon,” Harry tells him. “In the meantime, you’ll have to stay in my cabin.”

Where he’ll be safe and Harry will know where he is. Out of the way and not bothering anyone. And also out of sight so Harry won’t be tempted to stare at him.

What. Louis is almost unbearably attractive and Harry’s never been great at not looking at someone he finds attractive. It’s gotten him laid several times in the past, so clearly it’s a tactic that works for him.

“And go out of my mind with boredom?” Louis asks, stretching his arms out above his head. The shirt he’s wearing doesn’t lift to bare any skin, but christ how Harry wishes it would. Just a little. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll just stay here and enjoy the view.”

“Prince Tomlinson,” Harry begins.

“How formal,” Louis interjects, turning his head and fixing Harry with an amused gaze. “What may I do for you, Captain Styles?”

There’s something about the way he says it, mocking and insincere, that has Harry’s back prickling. “You _may_ go back into the cabin and amuse yourself with what you find in there,” Harry says.

“Oh? I thought I was not to touch your things?” Louis asks. “Let me cut to the chase here, pirate. The only way I will remain in the cabin is by force.”

The temptation to do just that is almost overwhelming. Harry grits his teeth and says, “Prince Tomlinson. Please return to the cabin.”

Louis gives him one more look before returning his attention to the sea. “No.”

Harry could scream. He doesn’t, but he could.

 

They’re halfway to England and Louis has spent the past two days roaming every inch of Harry’s ship, fingers sliding all over everything he can reach. For the most part, the crew has been avoiding him, leveling Harry with unimpressed looks as Louis gets in their way. There’s only so long Harry can avoid dealing with it before his crew starts mutinying, and that is a thing Harry would rather avoid altogether.

The turning point comes when Louis gets in Pat’s way. It would be comical - this tiny little scrap of an omega standing off against the biggest person on the ship, all hulking muscles and absolutely towering over him - except Pat looks like he’s thinking about tearing Louis in two.

Harry can relate. Allowing that to happen would probably be a bad idea, though, so he extracts Louis from the situation, gripping him tight by the back of his neck and hauling him halfway across the deck before Pat can decide to make good on the look on his face and toss Louis overboard.

Harry drags Louis all the way over to Zayn, marking things down in his ledger with a concentrated look on his face. Louis is probably saying something but Harry isn’t listening. “Watch this,” he orders.

“ _This_?” Louis demands, outrage evident in his voice. “I’m a fucking _human being_ , arsehole, I should have you beaten for that.”

“No,” Zayn says, completely uninterested. He doesn’t look up from his writing, doing the necessary calculations to keep them on course.

Louis rips himself out of Harry’s hands before Harry can do what he really wants and shake him. Just a little, just enough to get him under control. “I don’t need to be watched,” Louis continues, smoothing out the collar of his shirt, fingers small and quick. Harry can’t stop watching him.

“Pat’s going to toss him overboard if he keeps getting in the way,” Harry tells Zayn, ignoring Louis’ dark, angry look.

Zayn’s disinterest is completely unfeigned. “So? He’s your problem, you deal with him. I didn’t join your crew to babysit snotty rich kids.”

Then the unexpected happens. Harry can only watch, vaguely horrified, as Louis pokes at Zayn’s should and hisses, “I am _not_ some snotty rich kid.”

Zayn looks up slowly, pencil still gripped between his fingers, and squints at Louis. “Yeah, you definitely don’t seem like some snotty rich kid right now.”

This is going to end in tears if Harry doesn’t put a stop to it, and he doesn’t even know whether he would place his bets on Louis or Zayn. Zayn is vicious when he’s angry and Harry has yet to see him lose a fight, despite his distaste for them, but Louis has made it perfectly apparent that he’s the type to fight dirty, use everything in his repertoire to get his way. The tears would probably end up being Harry’s.

“I’ll double your take on the next raid,” Harry offers. “Just - teach him something. Give him something to do. The last thing we need is for him to get murdered on our watch.”

Zayn turns to look at him. “Double?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Double,” Harry confirms. The greedy part of him is wincing at the idea. It’ll have to come out of his cut, but it’ll be worth it if everyone makes it to England with their heads still attached to their bodies.

“Fine,” Zayn says shortly, turning back to Louis. “Do you know what the sailing master does?”

Harry breathes a sigh of relief. He already has a feeling the relief will be short-lived.

 

He can only foist Louis off on Zayn for so long. _So long_ ends up being a day before Zayn returns him, handing him off to Harry as though they’re taking turns.

Well. That thought was a little strange, but Harry can’t concentrate on it because when Louis does come back to him he and Zayn are bickering.

_Bickering_. About something Harry can’t even follow, their accents playing off each other, speaking fast and joyfully, and all Harry can do is stare.

If Louis keeps winning people over like this, Harry’s entire crew is going to be on his side before they even reach the Canary Islands, much less England.

Zayn leaves, but not before giving Louis a quick, one armed squeeze that leaves Harry gaping open-mouthed at his back.

“What the fuck,” Harry shouts. Zayn just walks away, flipping him off over his shoulder. Harry is outraged. _Outraged_. Why the fuck is Zayn giving their spoiled little omega passenger cuddles when he barely even indulges Harry’s need for affection? Christ. They really need to get Louis off of this ship.

When he turns his head back to look at Louis, he’s watching him with an amused little twist to his mouth. “So what are you going to teach me today, my captain?” he asks softly, leaning back against the rail, and for the first time Harry notices his bare feet, still smudged with dirt, small toes curling into the wood of the deck.

It’s pointedly not capitalized, Louis’ use of his title, and the insolence of it should have Harry bristling. He has fought long and hard for his title, for the rights to this ship, and he doesn’t appreciate it when people disrespect it.

He barely even notices any of that now. His throat feels rough as he answers, “We have to check over the ship for anything in need of repairs.”

Louis’ eyes are still fixed on him. “Doesn’t the boatswain normally do that?”

Harry can’t help but feel impressed. “Aye,” he answers, starting off towards the helm of the ship. The soft sound of footsteps says Louis is following him. “Niall’s been busy repairing the damage from the last storm. We have three bedridden right now so we’re a little short-handed. Niall’s been performing extra duties and hasn’t had the time on his hands to do this.”

“So you’re going to repair the damage yourself?” Louis asks, stopping just short of Harry’s back. The heat of him is insane, practically begging for Harry’s hands to run all over him, make sure he’s not running a fever.

If he touched Louis right now it wouldn’t be to check him for a fever, that’s the only thing Harry knows for sure. “No,” he says, trying to force his brain away from those thoughts, the thoughts of heat and sex and ecstasy. “We’re going to repair the damage.”

The weight of Louis’ stare on his back feels incredulous. Harry resists the urge to laugh and turns around. “We?” Louis repeats, face becoming more and more disbelieving with every passing second.

“We,” Harry confirms, picking up the spare tool belt lying on top of a barrel. “You see that splintered beam? We’re gonna have to replace it entirely.”

“Replace it,” Louis says faintly. “Yes. I can do that. I’m capable of doing that.”

That laugh tickles at the back of Harry’s throat, threatening to burst out. He barely manages to bite it back. “You do know how to replace a splintered beam, right?”

“Of course I know how to replace a splintered beam, you swine,” Louis says uncharitably, irritably. “Do I look like some poor little helpless omega to you?”

He looks like a lot of things to Harry, but helpless isn’t one of them. “Of course not,” Harry says easily. “Do you want to start or should I?”

The relief that washes over Louis’ face is almost palpable. “Feel free,” he says, gesturing towards the beam.

“Right,” Harry says. “So I’ll just show you how to remove it, then, shall I?”

Louis’ scowl is immediate, but he doesn’t say no.

 

An hour later, the beam has been replaced. They’re both a little damp with sweat and it’s only the beginning of the list of things Harry needs to accomplish today.

He can’t tear his eyes away from Louis’ face, radiant and so pleased with himself, with the fact that he accomplished this. Harry has a lot of irrational urges - there’s a reason Liam’s his second in command, after all - but none seem more irrational than the urge he’s having right now to teach Louis how to do everything, every single task Harry does on a daily basis, just to keep that look on his face forever.

That would be bad. Harry’s pretty sure giving this calculating, disobedient omega the complete low down on how this ship is run is a terrible idea.

Imagine how happy it would make him, though.

“Are you ready to rip out rusty nails and replace them?” Harry asks.

It shouldn’t be possible, the way Louis’ face gets even brighter. “You want me to rip out nails?” he asks, intrigue clear in his tone.

“Aye,” Harry says. “It’s hard work.”

Louis’ expression doesn’t even falter at the implication that he might not want to do it because it’s hard work. “So you want me to use a hammer and beat nails into your precious ship,” he says.

Ah. Now it makes sense. Harry should have known Louis would be excited at the prospect of tearing up his ship.

“I assume you know how to hold a hammer?” Harry asks, extending one.

Louis sniffs and grabs it out of Harry’s hand. “Of course I know how to hold a hammer,” he says disdainfully, and proves it by ripping out six nails in rapid succession.

It’s pretty impressive. Harry almost doesn’t have the heart to tell him he should be replacing the nails as he’s taking them out.

Almost.

 

They take a break to have something to eat. It’s a simple meal, just beef and potatoes, but Harry’s a pirate and pirates are notorious for their drinking.

Rum, specifically. It’s never too early in the day for rum.

“You’re good at carpentry,” Louis observes, holding his cup up to his mouth. It must be the poor lighting shadowing Louis’ cheeks, casting a faint pink twinge to them. That or it’s just Harry’s imagination.

“Piracy isn’t all sword fights and thievery,” Harry says mildly, unable to tear his eyes away from that soft, gorgeous flush. Maybe it’s the alcohol.

“So tell me what it is, then,” Louis says, half demanding, half challenging. There’s something in his tone, something curious and willing to listen, and maybe that’s why Harry starts talking.

Or maybe it’s just the rum.

“It’s family,” Harry stars, staring down at the dark liquid in his cup, swirling it around. “It’s a sense of unity and belonging. It’s a common purpose and working towards something with people you trust while the sea rages against you, inside of you. It’s accepting that death comes for everyone and that when it comes for me I want to be in the only place that feels like home.”

“Your ship,” Louis says softly, staring at Harry in the dim light.

Harry clears his throat and forces a laugh. “And the gold isn’t too bad either,” he says. “Something I’m sure you know plenty about.”

Louis huffs out a breath and draws his knees up to his chest. “Yeah,” he says unconvincingly.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Harry says, unable to stop himself from pulling at a thread when he’s found one.

There’s an analogy there about wanting to watch Louis unravel. Harry pointedly doesn’t think about it.

“No, there’s plenty of gold,” Louis says, scratching at a knee and wiggling his toes against his ankle. It’s unexpectedly pretty. “There’s also plenty of people watching your every move and making sure that you never have so much as a single strand of hair out of place. Appearances are everything, you know.”

“You look plenty good to me,” Harry says, the words out of his mouth before he can think the better of them.

He’s always lacked a proper brain to mouth filter.

It’s anything but untrue, though - dirt smudged and sweaty, wearing tattered, torn clothes and no shoes, Louis is still unfairly attractive. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a not entirely unwilling smile. “I have six siblings,” he says suddenly, flicking a piece of dirt onto the ground.

“Big family,” Harry says, ignoring the pang in his own chest at the thought. He’s spent both time and energy filling his life with other things, gaining himself a makeshift family in his crew, but it’s still hard sometimes, dealing with those memories. The pain will never be entirely gone.

“Aye,” Louis says softly, mockingly. “They were a handful to deal with when they were just babes, but they’re all growing up. My eldest sister will be Queen when she comes of age.”

“Not you?” Harry asks, stretching his legs out in front of him and swallowing another mouthful of rum. “Thought the title usually went to the oldest child.”

Louis ducks his head and busies himself examining his cup. “Not when the oldest child is an omega.”

“So because you’re O you’re suddenly unfit to run a country?” Harry asks incredulously. “That’s fucked.”

Louis’ head jerks up as if he hadn’t been expecting that. “It is what it is,” he says. “Omegas aren’t fit for certain tasks. We’re made for child bearing and house keeping.”

Christ, this can’t actually be what they teach royal children. Harry sets his cup on the floor hard enough that it rattles and says firmly, “That’s fucking absurd. The first thing you did when we met was try to spit in my face, and then you pulled a knife on Niall the second you got the chance. I don’t know what they teach rich kids but you’re definitely not the ‘roll over and take it’ type.”

Louis is still watching him, something unreadable on his face. “You’re something else, Captain Styles,” he murmurs, bringing the cup back up to his lips.

The capitalization is audible this time.

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon doing minor repairs, and by the end of it Louis has a fresh, light glow to his skin, a product of spending the day in the sun.

It looks good on him. That’s not so surprising - it seems like anything would look good on him. They have another meal together, dining in the open expanse of sea air on the deck while the sun sets against the horizon. They talk, and while most of it is about nothing Harry gets more enamored by the second by the way Louis speaks, vicious and biting when he wants to be but soft and gentle when his guard is down.

When his guard is down. Jesus. Harry needs to be very careful, here.

About what he’s not even sure. He just knows that he needs to be careful.

“It’s beautiful,” Louis says quietly, looking over the railing, at the reds and oranges cast by the sun and reflecting off the water.

“It’s my favourite view in the world,” Harry agrees. It’s the truth. It’s been his favourite view since he was nothing more than a boy, aboard a ship he had no place being on.

For some reason it feels like a lie. He doesn’t want to examine what that feeling might mean.

“It’s peaceful,” Louis says, voice just a murmur above the swell of the waves crashing against the side of the ship.

Harry hums out an agreement, tipping his head back to look up at the stars that are just emerging in the night sky. “Sometimes I come out here when the crew is being too rowdy,” he says thoughtfully, folding his arms up underneath his head. “Just to look at the sky, remind myself where I am.”

The press of Louis’ legs against his side is as much of a shock as it isn’t. He leans over, blocking Harry’s view of the stars, but the view he gets presented with instead is just as pretty, Louis’ hair falling down into his face, mouth chapped and pink.

Clearly there’s been too much rum today and Harry isn’t thinking straight. That’s the only explanation for the way he reaches up to drag his thumb across Louis’ cheek, down towards his mouth, watching the way his eyelashes flutter. “You’re very pretty,” Harry murmurs.

“Thank you,” Louis whispers back, tongue darting out to wet those lips, arm coming across Harry’s body to plant itself on the ground, leaning down even farther. “You smell like sweat.”

Harry tucks a strand of Louis’ hair behind his ear, fingers lingering against the lobe. “Is that a bad thing?”

That faint flush Louis has been sporting all day deepens, spreads. “No.”

They’re close enough now that Louis is all Harry can smell, all he can concentrate on, and if it were anyone but him in this position Harry would have already kissed them.

This is the King of England’s omega son, though. Presumably the King of England’s _virgin_ omega son.

Harry extracts himself. His cock hates him for it, half hard in his trousers, and that instinct he’s been suppressing since the very first second he laid eyes on this tiny little scrap of a thing - the one that says _bite_ and _bruise_ and _mark_ and _make him submit_ \- rears up, but Harry can ignore it. Has to ignore it.

“It’s getting late,” he says, forcing himself not to look at the way Louis is still kneeling on the floor.

“You know what I think?” Louis asks conversationally, forcing Harry’s attention back to him as he stands. “I think you’re a _gentleman_ , Harry Styles.” He pats Harry’s chest as he takes his leave, and Harry is too busy wondering whether that’s supposed to be an insult or a compliment to notice the look on Louis’ face, as if he’s decided something.

It’ll take Harry an almost embarrassing amount of time to realize that he has.

 

Louis doesn’t put up any protests about sleeping on the floor that night. By the time Harry’s ready for bed, Louis is already curled up in the blankets on the floor, book in hand. He’s halfway through it and doesn’t even look up when Harry comes in, shutting the door behind himself.

Harry splashes some water on his face, cleaning off the worst of the sweat and grime, and ties his hair back. Then takes a long glance at Louis.

Can’t help himself. “You can take the hammock tonight.”

At that, Louis looks up. “Excuse me?”

Not for the first time, Harry curses his inability to think things through before acting. It’s a problem that flares up every once in a while, although it has gotten a lot better since he was a child.

It’s been too long to retract the words now. “You can take the hammock tonight. If you make me say it again you’ll be sleeping on the deck.”

Louis’ mouth curves into a slow, pleased smile. He doesn’t say anything as he pushes the blankets down, rising gracefully from the floor to tumble into the hammock. Harry turns his back, trying to convince himself that there’s really no reason to feel like he’s just won something. The only thing he’s done is let Louis have a place to sleep that isn’t the hard floor, a luxury he’s used to and must be missing. And the only reason he’s even done it in the first place is because he doesn’t want the King of England thinking that his son has been mistreated.

He’s not quite successful in convincing himself.

 

The next day brings rain and rough seas. The crew is restless, apprehensive. They’re used to the unpredictability of the sea but that doesn’t mean they have to like it.

Louis is as restless as the rest of them, pacing along the wet dock. They’re anchored for now, near the shore of Morocco, waiting the storm out, and that isn’t making anyone feel better, Harry included.

The crew is busy going about their duties, and Louis is getting in their way. If Harry doesn’t do something about it someone else will and who knows what will happen then.

“Come take some tea with me,” Harry says abruptly, interrupting Louis’ pacing.

Louis stops, looking at Harry with a frown on his face. “You have tea?” he asks skeptically.

Really? Offer him one nice thing and his response is disbelief. Jesus.

Instead of answering, Harry turns around and walks back into his cabin, leaving the door open behind him. He already has the tea steeping, brought up by Danny from the kitchen, and it smells fragrant. Extravagant.

Tea is a luxury on a pirate ship. The only reason they even have any right now is because the last ship they raided before _The Tide_ had been a merchant ship, carrying goods across the Atlantic.

He smells Louis before he hears him, light and airy somehow, despite the nearly torrential downpour going on outside. Harry grabs a towel and drags it over his face, his hair, his arms, before tossing it to Louis.

“You do have tea,” Louis says.

Harry pours out two cups with steady hands. “Did you think I was lying?”

There’s a rustle of fabric from behind him, as if Louis is shrugging. “You are a pirate,” is all he says, crossing the room to hover at Harry’s side.

Warmth bleeds out of him and onto Harry, despite the dampness of his clothes. It’s strange, considering that he bundles up at night, blankets covering every inch of him save his head. _Warm_ isn’t really a word Harry would use to describe him.

“And that automatically makes me a liar?” Harry asks, letting Louis take the cup out of his hand and arrange himself in the pile of blankets on the ground. “Sugar?”

“No,” Louis says, taking a sip of his tea. Harry takes that to mean _no_ to both questions, crossing the room himself to take a seat a respectable distance from Louis.

The cup is warm in his hands, sway of his ship gentle and uneven underneath him. The storm must be ebbing, then, and it’s comforting, relaxing. Always has been.

“You’re entirely too honest for being a pirate,” Louis muses, resting the cup on his blanket covered thigh.

Harry takes a sip out of his own cup, distracting himself, if only for a second. “Maybe you just need to re-think the assumptions you have about my kind,” he suggests.

“No,” Louis says again, fingers wrapped tightly around his cup, holding it properly. His manners are deeply instilled in him, even when he’s trying not to let them show. It’s oddly attractive. “I think it may just be you.”

Something unidentifiable prickles in Harry’s chest. “So you’re saying that Liam and Niall and Zayn are liars, then?”

Louis shrugs elegantly, the material of the shirt he’s wearing rustling slightly. “I’m sure they’re honest enough,” he says. “Nowhere near as honest as you.”

“Or maybe I’m just a better liar,” Harry suggests, taking another sip of his tea. It’s cooled now, enough to drink comfortably.

“Right,” Louis says. “What do your tattoos mean?”

It’s an abrupt change of topic, one that leaves Harry blinking a little. He takes another sip of his tea, considering. The cup is almost empty now, warmth lingering in the china, another gift from the merchant ship. “Which one?”

Louis hums under his breath, leaning closer. His side brushes against Harry’s, almost electrifying. It only gets worse as he drags a single finger up Harry’s bare arm, ghosting over a few tattoos to settle on the ship.

“I would think that one would be obvious, m’lord,” Harry says softly, unable to tear his eyes away from where Louis’ fingers are resting on his skin.

Tracing the lines of ink. If he’s not careful Harry’s going to lose all semblance of control and do something Louis isn’t intending to make happen.

If _Harry’s_ not careful he’s going to lose all semblance of control and do something neither of them will be able to take back.

“Don’t be a twat,” Louis scolds, pinching at him lightly. “Tell me about when you got it.”

Calling him a twat and asking him about where he got his tattoo. Since when do they raise royalty like this?

It would be incredibly helpful if Harry wasn’t entranced by the complexities of Louis’ personality - royal yet brash, soft yet hard, strong yet delicate. Terrified but incredibly courageous. Intelligent yet - alright, just intelligent. Incredibly sharp. Too sharp.

“I got it after I became Captain of _The Wandering Sparrow_ ,” Harry says. He still can’t make himself stop looking at Louis’ hand on him, soft and warm, small. The right thing to do would be to remove it himself, lay it back in Louis’ lap. It’s not appropriate for someone of his status to be touching someone like Harry, even if it is innocent and only on his arm.

“How did you become Captain?” Louis asks, finally removing his hand.

“Murder,” Harry responds immediately.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You know I’m not going to believe that.”

Unfortunately, Harry does know. “I won a ship in a bet,” he says. Louis squints at him. “Then I got myself a crew.”

There’s a few seconds of silence. “You know you’re going to have to elaborate,” Louis says eventually.

Harry wants to elaborate. It’s one of his best stories, after all, and he loves telling it to anyone who will listen, but this also feels more intimate than it should, sharing a drink - even one that’s non-alcoholic - with Louis and sitting curled up on the floor with him, talking quietly as the sea rages outside.

Then again, Harry’s also very bad at denying himself things he wants, and Louis is definitely a thing he wants. Not that Louis is a thing, he means, just that he wants Louis. Desperately. Vividly.

“I had just turned twenty,” Harry begins, stretching his legs out in front of him, “and obviously this called for some celebrating, so Liam and I had a few more drinks than we really should have. There was this old guy, not even a pirate, who’d had more than we did and was being such a pain in the arse it was unbelievable, but it turned out that he had a ship. A ship that was badly in need of repairs, but a ship nonetheless.”

“ _The Wandering Sparrow _?” Louis interrupts.__

__So impatient. A rush of something akin to fondness runs through Harry’s veins. “No. It was called _The Dragon’s Death_.”_ _

__“That’s a terrible name,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose. He sets his cup down on the floor and then leans back against the wall, stretching his own legs out in front of him._ _

__“Aye, it was,” Harry agrees. “But the old man was running his mouth, claiming that he could drink me under the table, and I’d already had enough to think taking him up on his bet was a good idea, so I did.”_ _

__Louis laughs. His toes only reach the spot Harry’s ankles do, not substantially shorter but enough to be noticeable. And Harry definitely notices. “Liam let you?”_ _

__“Liam _enabled_ me,” Harry tells him, smiling at the way Louis tips his head back to laugh. “If it wasn’t for Liam egging me on I probably wouldn’t have done it at all.”_ _

__“Enabled, huh,” Louis says thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully for Harry’s liking. “Continue.”_ _

__Again with the tone that says he’s royalty. Harry really needs to learn how to pull that off and use it on the crew. Maybe they would listen to it._ _

__“Obviously I won,” Harry says. “Drank him under the table and took the ship before he could change his mind. We were halfway across the ocean before we sobered up enough to realize the old man probably hadn’t been serious about the stakes.”_ _

__“So what did you do?” Louis asks, intrigued, leaning forward._ _

__Harry rubs the pad of a finger over the ring on his thumb. “We kept it.”_ _

__“Really?”_ _

__Harry nods. “Aye. We kept it and raided a small merchant ship the first chance we got, collecting supplies, picked up a couple crew members in Tortuga.”_ _

__“And you kept doing that until you landed up with _The Wandering Sparrow_ ,” Louis surmises._ _

__He had. “It was quite a journey,” Harry says, smiling down at his cup._ _

__“Yeah,” Louis says softly. “Sounds like it.”_ _

__

__The next day, Harry wakes up to an empty cabin and a cloudy head. He stumbles over to his chest of drawers half-blind, pulls out some fresh clothes without even looking at them._ _

__At least, that’s what he intends to do. What actually happens is that Harry sticks his hand into a drawer and pulls out a handful of wet seaweed._ _

__For a second, Harry just stares at it, uncomprehending. It’s soggy and limp in his hand, slimy to the touch. Disgusting. Definitely the worst part of life at sea, the seaweed._ _

__“What,” Harry says out loud, brain finally clearing. Seaweed doesn’t belong on the ship. Seaweed belongs in the water, not in a place where Harry’s clothes should be._ _

__In a place where Harry’s clothes _are_ , he realizes._ _

__“Louis!” he bellows. To his absolute lack of surprise, Louis doesn’t respond._ _

__

__It takes a few minutes, but Harry figures out that he wasn’t the only one who woke up to a nice seaweed surprise. In fact, there’s seaweed in nearly all of the crew’s drawers, with one noticeable exception, and neither of the culprits are anywhere to be seen._ _

__Harry would like to be furious. He would really, really like to be furious, but it’s hard to be angry when the rest of the crew is laughing uproariously about it, calling it ‘the best prank since the sardines.’_ _

__Harry disagrees with that, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was involved in the sardine prank. Who even pranks with seaweed? This is just ridiculous. Harry is going to have a stern chat with Danny as soon as he can find him and warn him against teaming up with Louis. It’s a dangerous road, that one._ _

__He doesn’t really have any faith that it will do any good. It’s pretty clear that Louis already has his hooks sunk deep into Danny and nothing Harry can say will be able to change that. It’s a shame, really. Now Harry’s going to have to drop Danny off with Louis in England. And he was such a good crew member, too._ _

__Alright, not really. But Harry’s enjoying the thought._ _

__

__

__Dinner aboard a pirate ship is usually a communal affair. It’s loud and crowded and boisterous, and it usually involves quite a bit of rum. There’s days where Harry doesn’t get a chance to eat with his crew, and those days are always bad days. This is his family, after all, and a family dinner is one of the most important ways to create a bond between the crew members._ _

__Today is a day Harry has time to eat with his crew, so that’s what he does, heading below the hatch to the kitchen. Dinner is a beef stew and bread, not the fanciest of meals but definitely appealing after a long, hard day, and Harry is looking forward to getting some food into his belly._ _

__“You save some for me?” Harry asks, peering over John’s shoulder, trying to see into the pot._ _

__John elbows him back good-naturedly. “Nah, Captain, served it all already,” he says easily, already scooping two ladles full of stew into a bowl._ _

__Harry takes it greedily, holding it up to his nose and inhaling deeply. “Mmm, smells delicious,” he says, clapping John on the back and stealing a couple of rolls for himself._ _

__The clamor in the dining room doesn’t dim when Harry enters. It never does, not anymore. Not since he put this crew together, and Harry likes that. Likes the camaraderie it brings._ _

__The room is dark, dimly lit with a few lanterns. They try to keep the majority of their lanterns in supply for when they’ll truly need them. That being said, it’s not too dark to see clearly enough, and what Harry sees is Louis sitting in the middle of a table, bowl balanced on his knees. He’s telling some sort of story, it looks like, gesturing with both hands to the delight of his captive audience._ _

__Danny has his head bent against the table, shoulders shaking as he laughs loudly. Harry sighs to himself, unsure of whether he wants to be endeared or not. Louis shouldn’t be able to win over his crew with this much ease. He is, though, and there’s nothing Harry can do about that. He isn’t even really angry about the seaweed prank anymore, either._ _

__He takes a seat at the table Liam’s already sitting at, elbows resting atop the wood as he stares down at the bowl in front of him. Harry nudges him, digging into his own bowl. “Alright, mate?” he asks, mouth already full of food._ _

__“You have terrible manners,” Liam mutters, snapping out of his zone. “Just been a long day, s’all. Crew’s getting rowdy.”_ _

__As if on cue, a roar of laughter goes up, loud and bracing. Harry glances over his shoulder, sees Danny standing on the table right next to where Louis is sitting, giving a dramatic re-enactment of the time he fell overboard in the middle of the Atlantic and thought he was about to be eaten by a shark._ _

__Turned out the shark was really a dolphin. In all honesty, it’s a really dumb story. It’s endearing, though, and Danny tells it very well. It has Louis cracking up, the sound of his laughter audible even from across the room._ _

__Now that Liam has pointed it out, Harry does notice the rowdiness in the room. It’s different than the normal rowdiness of the crew, has more tension, more anxiety. The type of tension that happens when they’ve been at sea for too long, which is a bit strange right now. They’ve gone longer periods of time without setting foot on land than this._ _

__Must be the added stress of carrying a royal omega with them. It’s a new one for all of them._ _

__Harry stands up abruptly, affecting his _Captain of the Ship_ posture. It’s posture that draws the attention of his crew, and it’s something that took a while for Harry to learn._ _

__He’s excellent at it now._ _

__“Alright, gents,” he booms, raising his voice to be heard over the lingering conversations. “Let’s break out the ale, shall we?”_ _

__A cheer goes up through the room. Harry smiles to himself as he sits back down._ _

__

__“We’re going to have to stop for supplies,” Liam says, bracing himself against the door frame, map in hand. “Soon, at that.”_ _

__Harry would very much _not_ like to stop for supplies - he’d like to be able to magically transport them to England. That isn’t going to happen, though, at least not without the help of a very powerful witch, and Harry’s had more than his fair share of run-ins with witches._ _

__“I know,” he says glumly._ _

__Liam rolls his eyes. “You need to suck it up, Captain,” he says, slapping the map against Harry’s chest. “We can make it as far as Portugal without stopping. Pick a place and let Zayn know.”_ _

__Harry must still be pouting. Liam adds a sigh to his eye roll. “If you explain to him why it’s a bad idea for him to leave the ship he’ll probably understand. He’s actually a pretty smart lad. Smarter than us, that’s for sure.”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll understand,” Harry says, unconvinced._ _

__

__When he tells Louis that they’re docking for a few hours, just long enough to gather some supplies before they set off again, Louis nods. Then he nods again when Harry explains why it would be a bad idea for him to leave the ship, reasons which include what happened the last time he left the ship. It seems like he understands._ _

__Later, Harry will realize it’s not that Louis didn’t understand, it’s that he chose to ignore Harry’s warnings. That will become a running theme in Harry’s life._ _

__

__There’s a vaguely uneasy feeling in Harry’s chest. It’s a feeling he’s been having for the past hour and he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the dark, seedy tavern they’re currently conducting their business in._ _

__It’s not until he catches a flash of familiar brown hair that he realizes exactly why he’s been having that feeling in his chest._ _

__“You have to be kidding me,” he says, squinting through the gloom and dust of the room, trying to make sure his eyes are not deceiving him._ _

__“He’s perfectly fine, mate,” Zayn says impatiently. “Nothing’s going to happen to him with all of us here. If he has to be off of the ship this is the best place for him.”_ _

__Harry focuses his attention back on the mug of ale in his hand. “I don’t like it,” he says._ _

__“Well, that’s just too bad, ain’t it,” Zayn says. “Your only options are to leave him be or drag him back to the ship. And if you drag him back to the ship we’re not going to get what we came here for.”_ _

__“Okay,” Harry acquiesces, taking a swig of his ale. “Fine. Let’s get this over with, then.”_ _

__Zayn rises from their small, rickety table fluidly, heading towards the bar. Harry follows him, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder, ensure that Louis is still in the same place. It’s an unnecessary urge - the sound of light, lilting laughter follows Harry as he moves through the room, seeping into his skin. He can pinpoint exactly where Louis is without even needing to look, half from scent and half from sound._ _

__His brain is attempting to tell him that has to mean something. He’s only somewhat successful in ignoring it._ _

__The people they’re here to meet are waiting for them at the bar, unkempt and disheveled, not unlike Harry at the moment. Or Zayn, for that matter, smudged with oil and hair tangled around his head. They’re the type of people Harry is used to meeting - pirates. Presumably pirates who abide to the code._ _

__Harry doesn’t trust them._ _

__Right now, he’s having a hard time trusting anyone. He’s had a hard time trusting anyone who isn’t a member of his crew since the betrayal of _The Tide_ , but this is different. Every unfamiliar scent seems like a threat, tearing his attention between the task at hand and Louis, in the thick of everything, where anything could happen to him._ _

__“Miles,” Zayn greets, settling himself onto a stool while Harry is still looking around, assessing the situation._ _

__“Zayn,” Miles returns, eyes prickling on Harry’s back. “Speaking for your Captain now?”_ _

__Zayn huffs, plucking the cigarette from behind his ear and placing it between his lips. “’ve always spoken for him, mate, where’ve you been the past five years?”_ _

__Harry settles onto a stool himself, forcing his attention to where it should be. Louis being here shouldn’t be distracting him the way it is. He’ll be fine - there’s at least ten of Harry’s crew hanging around this tavern, gambling and drinking, and while their attention probably isn’t focused on Louis they all know he’s to be kept safe at all costs._ _

__Because they don’t want to be sent to the gallows for allowing something to happen to him. That’s the only reason. There’s no other reason._ _

__“Yeah, yeah,” Miles says, rolling his eyes. “You got something for me or not?”_ _

__“Got half a mind to put my fist through your smug face,” Zayn mutters, elbowing Harry in the ribs. “Captain, you got it?”_ _

__“Got what?” Harry asks reflexively, attention finally where it should be. “Oh, yeah, yes. I have it.” He pulls a small cloth bag out of a pocket, pushing it across the counter._ _

__Miles takes it, opens it and rifles through it, counting. It takes him a lot longer than it should. Or maybe Harry is just feeling extremely wary about having his back to the rest of the patrons in the bar. Anything could happen._ _

__“You’re short,” Miles says, letting the bag drop back down onto the bar, finally finished counting._ _

__Okay, now Harry’s attention is _actually_ fixed to where it should be. “We’re fucking not.” He hates being cheated out of his hard earned money._ _

__“The price has gone up,” Miles says. “Inflation. You know how it is.”_ _

__Harry straightens up, resting an arm on the bar, staring straight at Miles. He squirms uncomfortably, avoiding Harry’s gaze. Good. “The price is the exact same as it’s always been,” he says. “We’ll not pay any more. It’s barely even worth what you’re charging, much less more.”_ _

__Seriously. Some food, some weapons, a bunch of barrels. They could get these supplies cheaper elsewhere, but there’s honour among thieves._ _

__Not to mention Harry doesn’t like the way good, wholesome vendors look at him when he attempts to do his business with them. Slightly scared and undoubtedly wishing he wasn’t there. He much prefers to do his business with his rougher counterparts. It’s easier._ _

__“Fine,” Miles says, relenting, and Harry is about to say something to really cement how ridiculous Miles’ attempt to raise his prices is, except the soft lilt of Louis’ voice in the background goes high pitched and a little shrieky._ _

__Harry’s moving before he even realizes it, knocking the stool over as he follows the sound of Louis’ voice, not quite panicked but close._ _

__He sees Louis before he’s able to reach him in the crowded confines of the room, standing up against a wall, glaring at a guy standing in front of him._ _

__An _alpha_ standing in front of him. Suddenly, Harry feels too hot for his skin, like his blood is going to boil right out of him. He’s all elbows as he shoves his way through the crowd, trying to reach Louis before something happens, before he’s recognized._ _

___How many fucking times_ does Harry have to say that it’s not safe for him to leave the ship before he finally gets it through his thick skull. They don’t need a dead omega prince on their hands._ _

__Once he gets close enough to hear the words Louis is saying, he’s pretty much stopped in his tracks. “Not interested,” Louis is saying dismissively, giving the guy’s shoulder a little shove. “I like my alphas with more brains and less brawn, thank you very much. And, judging from the way you’re acting right now, you wouldn’t have shown me any courtesy anyway.”_ _

__Is he _serious_? He can’t be serious right now._ _

__He is, though, ducking underneath the guy’s arm and walking away._ _

__Or trying to walk away, at least. Harry watches for a second, horrified, as the guy grabs Louis’ shoulder, bringing him to a halt. “You turning me down, pretty?”_ _

__What the actual fuck. Is this actually happening right now? This can’t be happening right now. There’s no way this actually happens to omegas._ _

__Louis sighs. “Please remove your hands from my body.”_ _

__“What are you going to do, pre- ” the guy starts, and Harry’s moving, rushing through the crowd, ready to pluck Louis right out of this situation. By force, if necessary._ _

__Except Louis is turning around calmly, glint of silver in his hand, and all of a sudden both he and the guy are on the floor. Louis’ on his knees, keeping the guy pinned down, sharp tip of the blade pressed into the guy’s throat._ _

__“Do you want to try that again?” Louis asks, digging his knee into the guy’s groin. “Last chance.”_ _

__Harry stops again. Right in the middle of the room._ _

__“Sorry,” the guy beneath Louis blubbers, “sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean - ”_ _

__“No,” Louis says calmly. “People like you never do.” He digs the knife into the guy’s throat harder, cutting off anything he might be trying to say._ _

__The adrenaline that started flowing through Harry’s body the second he scented Louis in the room doesn’t slow. He watches with baited breath as Louis slaps the guy with his free hand and demands, “Give me all the money you have on you.”_ _

__Harry blinks while the guy fumbles for his money, pressing it into Louis’ hand. Then he blinks some more as Louis rises to his feet easily, not even looking back to ensure the guy isn’t going to get up as he stalks towards the door, still gripping the money in one hand and the knife in the other._ _

__It’s like everyone except Louis is frozen where they are. The entire room is still and quiet._ _

__Right up until Louis stops at the door and throws an impatient look over his shoulder. “Are you coming?” he snaps._ _

__Harry’s not even sure if he’s the one Louis is talking to, but he follows him anyway, out the door and down the street, all the way back to the ship, feeling slightly dazed the entire way._ _

__The rest of the crew follows. Harry’s not sure whether to assume that’s a good thing or a bad thing._ _

__

__Back on the ship, Louis strides into Harry’s cabin without glancing back at anyone. This is a thing they’re going to have to talk about, even if Harry’s not looking forward to it. He follows Louis, letting the door stay open behind them. There’s no use in pretending that the entire crew won’t be listening anyway._ _

__“You can’t be doing things like that,” Harry says. Louis ignores him, rummaging through the stuff piled on Harry’s table, knocking items onto the floor._ _

__Harry waits. Louis doesn’t stop. He also doesn’t say anything. “What are you doing?”_ _

__At that, Louis stops. He stands still for a minute before turning around, hands empty. “I need a knife.”_ _

__Harry’s eyebrows climb up his forehead slowly. “In what world would I let you have a knife? Where did you even _get_ that knife from, anyway?”_ _

__Louis rolls his eyes, impatient and annoyed. “I’m not going to stab you, Harry. I need a knife so I’ll be able to protect myself.”_ _

__So he can protect himself? _So he can protect himself_?_ _

__“If you hadn’t left this ship after I _specifically_ told you to stay here you wouldn’t have needed to protect yourself,” Harry says, trying to keep his voice in check._ _

__Sometimes Harry is at odds with his more primal instincts, tries to repress them. Now is not one of those times._ _

__Louis has a lot of things going for him - he’s attractive, he’s smart, he’s royal, he’s regal when it suits him, funny, stubborn. The majority of those things are also likely to get him into trouble, especially when combined with the fact that he’s an omega. Thinking about him getting into trouble makes Harry’s alpha instincts flare up with the urge to force him to stay somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t be recognized._ _

__It’s as much of an irrational urge as it’s not._ _

__Louis raises his own eyebrows right back at Harry. “Did you actually think telling me to do something would work?”_ _

__No. But he had hoped. And barely resisted the urge to say it with a bit of alpha timbre in his voice to really get the point across._ _

__Doing that would have been inappropriate, to say the least. And Harry doesn’t mind being inappropriate - kind of relishes it, in fact - but there’s a difference between inappropriate with omegas of his own kind, ones who were born and bred in the same kind of situations Harry was, and being inappropriate with Louis._ _

__With Prince Louis Tomlinson of Yorkshire._ _

__Definitely different._ _

__“Can you just,” Harry starts, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He’s tired and he wants to bathe and then sleep, skin thick with grime._ _

__“Just what?” Louis asks, voice sharp. “Just be a good little omega and do what I’m told? Let the big bad alpha protect me because apparently all omegas are incapable of taking care of themselves?”_ _

__No. Harry doesn’t believe any of that, not even during his bad moments. He’s met plenty of omegas who are more than capable of taking care of themselves, Louis included._ _

__None of that lessens the urge to take care of him anyway. It’s an alpha thing. Must be._ _

__“You’re being ridiculous,” Harry says._ _

__It’s the wrong thing to say._ _

__Louis hurls a book at him, shouting something incomprehensible. The smartest thing Harry can do is flee, so that’s what he does._ _

__It was either flee or hold Louis down and bite him all over until he went limp and shuddery in Harry’s arms. So._ _

__They really need to make it to England already._ _

__

__He sleeps with the crew that night, giving Louis some space. He’s not worried, not really. It must be hard for Louis, being away from his family for so long and under such trying conditions, and while Harry would like him to be at least a little more co-operative he understands why Louis isn’t._ _

__Needless to say, he’s surprised when the first thing Louis does after coming out of the cabin in the morning is walk right up to Harry and say, “I’m sorry.”_ _

__Harry blinks._ _

__“Not for leaving the ship,” Louis clarifies, resting a hand on the helm a mere few inches away from Harry’s. “But I know I made you worry and that distracted you from completing your business.”_ _

__This is suspicious. Harry’s a naturally suspicious person, a quality that comes in handy given his line of work, but this is really suspicious. Super suspicious, even._ _

__Granted, he hasn’t known Louis for long, but in that time Louis has never apologized. For anything, even when he probably should have._ _

__“Aye,” Harry says slowly, wondering where this is going._ _

__He doesn’t have to wonder for long. Louis continues, “But I’m also not going to be confined to this ship until we get back to England, and we both know there’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”_ _

__“It’s dangerous for you to leave this ship,” Harry says. Rays of sunlight are making it hard to see, bright and blinding. He has to squint against it, taking in the slope of Louis’ mouth and the set of his shoulders._ _

__Harry isn’t saying anything Louis doesn’t already know._ _

__“It is,” Louis agrees. “Apparently it’s also dangerous for me to sleep in my own bed in a castle surrounded by guards.”_ _

__A flinch overtakes Harry’s body, unwitting and automatic. He opens his mouth to say something, unsure of what, except Louis keeps talking, getting steadily louder and louder. “It’s dangerous for me to walk alone at night. It’s dangerous for me to do anything. Am I supposed to live my entire life in fear of what _could_ happen?”_ _

__In a perfect world Louis wouldn’t have to be worried about his safety at all. This is far from a perfect world._ _

__“No,” Harry says for a lack of anything better to say. “But I can’t bring you back to England if you’re dead.”_ _

__Louis tips his chin up, still defiant. “So teach me how to fight, then.”_ _

__Harry laughs. Louis doesn’t._ _

__

__Teaching an omega how to fight is a lot different than teaching an alpha or a beta how to fight, Harry quickly learns. Not because of any of the more obvious differences in strength or agility or anything like that, either._ _

__Just._ _

__The fucking scent._ _

__It’s almost overwhelming in such close proximity. Harry starts with showing Louis how to throw a proper punch, only to find out that Louis already knows that much. Because he has to dodge a fast punch, packed with power and incredibly well aimed._ _

__“Christ,” Harry says, unable to stop himself. “Why didn’t you tell me you already knew how to throw a punch?”_ _

__Louis’ smile is very nearly a smirk. “Why would you assume that I didn’t already know how to throw a punch?”_ _

__Well. He may have a point there._ _

__“Fine,” Harry says, and then moves, grabbing Louis’ wrist and spinning him around, pinning his arm there, half bent over._ _

__That’s really when the scent thing starts. This close, it’s impossible to ignore, infiltrating every single one of his senses. It’s almost as distracting as the knowledge that Louis is currently bent over and held down with nowhere to go._ _

__“What the hell,” Louis says, outraged, twisting his wrist in Harry’s hold._ _

__Harry doesn’t loosen his grip. “You’re an omega,” he says. Louis’ scoff is audible and a little irritating. Harry shakes him a little. “You’re an omega and you’re small,” he repeats. “Chances are if someone’s coming after you they’re already going to have the advantage of being bigger than you.”_ _

__“What’s your point?” Louis demands, hanging in Harry’s hold, bum nearly brushing against Harry’s crotch._ _

__This was a terrible idea. Harry should never have agreed to this._ _

__“The point is you’re usually not going to have size on your side,” he explains. “That doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t overpower someone. You have to find leverage and then use it.”_ _

__“Leverage,” Louis repeats thoughtfully. His wrist rolls in Harry’s hand again. “What kind of leverage?”_ _

__“Anything,” Harry answers truthfully. “Whatever you can find. The weak point of the hold, a weapon. Any power you have over that person.”_ _

__Louis moves. This time, his arse comes into full contact with Harry’s cock, pressing into him firmly, intentionally. “Leverage like the fact that your cock has been hard for the past two minutes?”_ _

__Harry lets go of him like he’s burning, stumbling back a step. Then, before he knows it, he’s lying flat on his back with Louis sitting heavily on top of him, holding his arms to the ground._ _

__“Does this mean I won?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow._ _

__Harry’s hit with a strong urge to yank him down and press their mouths together. It doesn’t pass. “You do know that I could get out of this, right?”_ _

__To prove it, he brings his legs up so his feet are flat against the floor, tense and ready to move, flip them over. Except Louis only leans back against them, hands sliding down Harry’s arms to his wrists but not off of them. Harry’s mouth is unreasonably dry._ _

__“You probably could,” Louis agrees. “But you don’t want to.”_ _

__It goes unspoken, this time, the fact that Harry’s cock is still hard and currently pressing up against Louis’ arse. Harry still flushes, cursing his apparent inability to control his own anatomy._ _

__“Do _you_?” Harry asks. It’s the only thing he can think of, mind already becoming muddled by hormones, by the way everything smells, looks, feels like. He could stay here for hours, hitching his hips up lazily, making Louis come over and over again - “Want me to show you?” _ _

__If his voice comes out rougher than normal it’s only to be expected. Louis licks his lips, considering, which is about all Harry can take without breaking and doing something he’ll end up regretting. Because this is the King of England’s first born omega son, after all._ _

__He flips them, cradling Louis’ back so he doesn’t hit the ground too hard, only just resisting the desire to make a grab for his wrists, hold him down _properly_._ _

__Louis blinks up at him, blue eyes wide, lips parted. His tongue is pink and wet inside of his mouth, practically begging for Harry’s to touch it, taste it._ _

__“Liam will teach you tomorrow,” Harry says abruptly, pushing himself up and walking away._ _

__It’s harder than it has any right to be. Literally._ _

__

__

__“You’re being a brat lately,” Harry observes, leaning up against the door frame. Louis is sitting on the floor with his back up against the wall, clad in a shirt that doesn’t look familiar and a pair of Harry’s trousers, knotted at the waist to prevent them from slipping. He’s shoeless._ _

__Again._ _

__Louis doesn’t say anything for a minute, squinting down at the book in his lap. Then he throws it away altogether, letting it slam against the floor a few feet in front of him, and sighs dramatically, tipping his head back against the wall. “I miss my family.”_ _

__Well. That’s. Unexpected. Louis generally goes out of his way to avoid looking even the slightest bit weak, hiding his vulnerabilities behind a mask of snark. So for him to be exposing himself like this, without Harry even trying to pry it out of him, it’s._ _

__Something._ _

__“We’ll be in England in a few days,” Harry points out, watching, slightly rapt, as Louis pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, making himself look even smaller, tinier._ _

__“This is the longest I’ve ever been away from home,” Louis confesses, not acknowledging Harry’s statement at all. “And it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but me siblings must miss me.”_ _

__They probably do. There’s something inexplicably charismatic about Louis - he’s got half of Harry’s crew fawning over him already, despite the amount of trouble he’s caused. He’s the type of person who’s missed when he’s gone._ _

__“Come here,” Harry says, holding out a hand. He doesn’t know what it says about their relationship, but Louis gets up and crosses the room to lay his hand in Harry’s without asking for an elaboration._ _

__Harry leads him out onto the deck, to a spot where the night sky shines down on them, illuminating Louis’ skin with moonlight. “Look,” he says, motioning up towards the sky even though he can’t quite manage to tear his own eyes away from Louis’ face._ _

__Louis looks, tilting his head back obediently, exposing the line of his throat. Harry has to swallow before he can continue. “These are the same stars your family sleeps under. The same sky, the same moon. No matter how far away you are, this is the same thing they see at night when they look up and think of you.”_ _

__Louis’ shoulders move as he breathes, taking in the stars, their shine, gaze slowly lowering down to look at the way the moonlight reflects off the water, clean and crisp. Harry watches him watch it._ _

__“Aye,” he says softly, gaze still far away. The ship is quiet, gentle thrum of her comforting underneath Harry’s feet, familiar, and maybe that’s why he reaches out to take Louis’ hand in his own, drawing that sharp, blue-eyed gaze back to him._ _

__“You miss your life,” Harry says quietly, not letting their fingers tangle together, despite the pull he feels. Louis is quiet, watching Harry watch him. “Your routine. The people who care about you. I will get you back to them, my liege, I promise.”_ _

__“I miss dancing,” Louis whispers, dragging his thumb over the back of Harry’s hand. “Is that strange? To miss dancing?”_ _

__If it was anyone else, Harry might think it unbearably pretentious, to miss dancing, of all things. It’s impossible to ignore the note of uncertainty in Louis’ voice, though, and it must be the late hour, or the stillness of the air. Those are the only reasons to gather Louis closer, pull him in and begin swaying to the beat of an imaginary orchestra._ _

__It’s probably too close to be considered appropriate. Harry has never had the luxury of lessons, of being able to dance with someone who actually knows what they’re doing, but Louis doesn’t complain or pull away. His free hand reaches out to place Harry’s on his back, just below his shoulder blades, the other still held tight, and allows Harry to sweep them around the deck almost unbearably slowly._ _

__Louis’ scent is sweet, filling Harry’s nose this close, body warm underneath Harry’s hands. There’s a feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, one that he would describe as happy if it was anyone else in his arms, but he can’t afford to be thinking those types of thoughts about Louis._ _

__Because Louis isn’t just Louis - Louis is Prince Louis Tomlinson of Yorkshire, the son of the King of England, and there’s no world in which following through on those types of thoughts doesn’t end badly for Harry. He’d do well to remember that._ _

__The dance goes on for an indeterminable amount of time. When it’s over and Louis is still so close to being caught up in Harry’s arms, he looks up into Harry’s face, just outside of his cabin, and says softly, “Thank you for the dance, Captain Styles,” before disappearing into the room, shutting the door behind himself._ _

__Harry really needs to get a grip._ _

__

__In the morning, after Harry’s been at the helm for hours already, Louis strides out of the cabin, wearing one of Harry’s shirts, buttoned up haphazardly, and stops about two inches away from Harry’s side._ _

__Harry’s too busy getting stuck on the way the shirt fall on him, big and hanging off of one shoulder, to think about the audacity of it. Of Louis taking his clothes without asking. For what feels like the thousandth time._ _

__“I know where there’s gold,” Louis says without preamble._ _

__Harry blinks. “Of course you do. You’re a prince.”_ _

__Louis sighs and elaborates. “No. I know where there’s _unprotected_ gold that your crew can ransack with no danger of being caught.”_ _

__“I knew leaving you unsupervised in my cabin would be a bad idea,” Harry mutters. It’s harder than it should be to tear his eyes away from the pretty image Louis makes, shirt hanging halfway down his thighs and feet bare, toes curling against the wood of the deck._ _

__“How did you even make Captain?” Louis wonders, pushing his hair back off his face. Harry blinks at him again. What? “I’m saying that I can get you gold and your crew won’t be at any risk.”_ _

__“And what’s in it for you?” Harry asks, forcing himself to pay attention to the issue at hand._ _

__Despite how good Louis looks with the bottoms of his trousers rolled up, showing off bare, tan skin._ _

__There’s a split second of hesitation evident on Louis’ face before he answers, “I want to stay.”_ _

__“Stay where?” Harry asks stupidly._ _

__“On the ship.”_ _

__The corners of Harry’s mouth are pulling down into a frown all by themselves. “You’re royalty,” he says. “You can go out on a ship literally any time you want. And you were just talking about how much you miss your family last night.”_ _

__“I do miss them,” Louis says. “But I’d never have this much freedom with them.”_ _

__There’s something tense about the way he says it. Harry can’t focus on that right now. “You don’t have freedom here, either,” he points out, abandoning the helm entirely, gesturing to Niall to take over._ _

__Louis’ head turns, looking out over the never ending expanse of sea, blue water glittering in the sunlight, the clouds hanging low in the sky. “This is freedom,” he says softly. “More freedom than I’ve ever had.”_ _

__Harry can’t think about the forlorn note in his voice, not if he wants to do the right thing. Can’t think about how Louis sounds as though he really does want to stay here, can’t think about what that would be like, can’t think about the peaceful expression on Louis’ face as he looks out at the water._ _

__“You’re not staying,” Harry says simply._ _

__“The funny thing is,” Louis says slowly, still looking at the water, “you’re not the one who gets to decide whether that’s true or not.”_ _

__He spins on his heel and walks off. Harry calls after him, just to make sure he’s really understood, “You’re not staying!”_ _

__He doesn’t feel good about the chances of Louis listening._ _

__

__In less than the time it takes for the sun to begin setting in the sky, half of Harry’s crew has taken to staring at him every time Harry moves away from the helm._ _

__Eventually, Harry’s had enough. “What?” he demands suddenly, loud enough that he gains the attention of everyone working on the deck._ _

__Liam coughs and rubs the back of his neck. “I think everyone’s wondering whether it’s true or not, mate,” he says, half apologetic._ _

__Harry narrows his eyes. It’s not due to the sun. “Whether what’s true?”_ _

__“It is true,” Louis says from behind him. “There’s gold to be had. Easily obtained gold. But I’m not going to say where it is unless you agree to let me stay.”_ _

__The deck is quiet, crew all waiting to see what Harry will say. “We could just torture it out of you,” Harry says, turning to face Louis head on. “We are pirates, after all.”_ _

__Louis tilts his head, rolling his eyes. “If you were going to torture me you would have already done it,” he says dismissively. “Your crew wants the gold. What are you going to do about it?”_ _

__They stare at each other, Louis with his bare feet and so far from intimidating it’s laughable, the sound of water lapping at the sides of the ship crystal clear. For a minute, Harry thinks about dragging him into the cabin and pinning him up against the wall to shake some sense into him. Louis doesn’t belong here, doesn’t belong with this ragtag group of pirates._ _

__If they ended up in the cabin it wouldn’t be so Harry could talk some sense into Louis. That’s something he knows for sure._ _

__“My crew trusts me to make the decisions,” Harry answers finally, tightly._ _

__“Sure,” Louis replies, shrugging one shoulder, shirt slipping down to bare an inch of smooth skin. “I’m just saying, it’d be incredibly easy. Nothing to go wrong, no one’s life would be at risk.”_ _

__Harry’s mouth tightens. He doesn’t say anything else, striding straight to his cabin and grabbing Louis’ wrist along the way, pulling him along. He keeps his mouth shut until the door is closed firmly behind them, giving them the semblance of privacy._ _

__Semblance only. The walls are not thick enough that this argument won’t be overheard by anyone who decides to listen in. Which, realistically, is everyone._ _

__“You’re undermining me in front of my crew,” Harry says, letting go of Louis’ wrist and striding over to the wall, away from the door._ _

__Louis arches an eyebrow and leans back against a wall himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t take much, then,” he observes._ _

__The pressure in Harry’s jaw builds. He has to concentrate on un-gritting his teeth. “You’re making things harder on yourself,” he says, switching tactics. “You’re going back to your family eventually, prolonging that is only going to make them more worried about you until you finally do.”_ _

__“Why don’t you let me worry about my family and you worry about what your crew will do if you don’t at least _look_ for the gold,” Louis suggests. He looks entirely too comfortable lounging against the wall like that._ _

__It’s hot today, muggy air seeping through the wood of the door and into the cabin, turning the room stifling and hot. Harry breathes through it, trying to keep his tenuous grip on his self control._ _

__“They’ll be fine,” he says tersely. The breathing is only making everything worse, making him light-headed and dizzy, sweet scent spilling all over every one of his senses in the cramped quarters._ _

__There’s something different about the scent, though, something deeper and headier than it’s ever been, and it’s not until Louis shifts, dragging one foot up against the wall, pressing his thighs closer together, that Harry realizes what it is._ _

__Saliva floods his mouth, an almost visceral reaction to what he’s smelling. Louis shifts some more, shoulders hunching down, making himself smaller. Whether it’s conscious or unconscious Harry doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Not when Louis is all but the only thing he can see, lithe and pressing his back up against the wall, reacting to Harry the exact same way Harry’s reacting to him._ _

__Louis knows exactly what Harry’s focusing on, what he’s smelling, but he makes absolutely no effort to hide it. Instead, his thighs part again, drawing Harry’s attention there, to where it smells like he’s so wet he’s leaking through the cotton of his trousers._ _

__“If you don’t look for the gold your crew will mutiny,” Louis says, curling his fingers around his thigh. Harry watches helplessly as he touches himself, grip sure and light._ _

__“If we do look for the gold my crew will think I’ve given in to an omega,” Harry says._ _

__He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. They’re not untrue, exactly, but they are unfair. Louis didn’t choose to be born omega any more than Harry chose to be born alpha, and the nature of their biology shouldn’t dictate how they’re perceived by society._ _

__Particularly the whole thing about an alpha being more powerful, more in control of the relationship than the omega. Harry tries not to remember much about his parents, but he has a pretty clear picture of his mother being the one with the backbone of steel, the person who ordered her alpha husband around. She’d had Harry’s father wrapped around her finger for as long as Harry can remember._ _

__Louis doesn’t react, at least not visibly. “Your crew will think you showed me who’s really in charge and decided to check out the island anyway,” he coaxes._ _

__Harry takes in another deep breath. It doesn’t do much to clear his head. “What island.”_ _

__The smile that grows across Louis’ face has the added benefit of brightening his eyes._ _

__

__It’s definitely not a coincidence that the island Louis claims has a ship load of gold takes them three days off their course to England, backtracking over the progress they’ve made. It’s manipulative and smart, conniving. Harry doesn’t want to be impressed - he especially doesn’t want to be impressed when Louis spends the next two nights none too quietly gloating in Harry’s cabin - but he is._ _

__He has to admire someone who’s so willing to go after what they want, even when it’s at the expense of Harry’s crew._ _

__As promised, the island is deserted. It looks as though it’s been uninhabited for some time now, native vegetation growing thick and lush. The crew wastes no time setting off in the direction Louis points, and Harry follows, but he’s keeping one eye up on the sky._ _

__The clouds are growing dark, winds coming in faster. It looks as though there’s a storm brewing, and a nasty one at that. If they aren’t quick about this they might get stuck here for a while._ _

__“This is the spot,” Louis says, coming to a halt. It looks like every other spot they’ve seen so far on this island, thick with brush, undisturbed._ _

__“Are you sure?” Harry asks, taking another glance around. Definitely undisturbed._ _

__“Yes,” Louis says decisively._ _

__Alright then. The faster they start digging the faster they can figure out whether Louis is telling the truth or not and get out of here. Harry nods to Liam, and the crew begins digging._ _

__It doesn’t take long. Less than ten minutes later, Danny’s shovel hits something. Something solid, something sturdy._ _

__A trunk, to be exact. Pulling it out of the earth leads to the discovery that the trunk is, in fact, filled with gold._ _

__The crew cheers. Harry sighs. So much for getting rid of Louis easily._ _

__Don’t get him wrong, they’re still taking him back to England, but Harry’s pretty sure that Louis is going to put up an even better fight about it._ _

__

__Once they’re back on the ship, course re-set for England, it only takes Louis a few hours to notice. Harry spends the entirety of those few hours dreading the inevitable confrontation, fingers gripping the helm tightly. He doesn’t need to be here, not particularly - there’s about a thousand other things he could be doing - but the second they had returned to the ship Louis had shot him a triumphant look and disappeared with Liam to sort through the loot._ _

__A while after that he had come back and went directly into Harry’s cabin without saying a word to anyone. It’s nightfall now, and Harry’s eyes are drooping, exhaustion settling heavily in every one of his limbs, but he can’t convince himself to pry his fingers loose and go to bed. Because he knows - _he knows_ \- that Louis is only bidding his time. There’s no way he hasn’t realized it yet._ _

__Going to sleep with the crew would be admitting defeat, and maybe if Harry wasn’t so tired that wouldn’t seem like such a bad thing. But he’s already given in so much, let Louis _take_ so much, that he can’t. Harry is the goddamn alpha Captain of this ship and it’s high time he started acting like it._ _

__It’s no surprise to anyone when Louis comes striding out of Harry’s cabin and doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of him. Harry hears him before he sees him, the soft pad of his feet hitting the floor unevenly._ _

__“Where are we going?” Louis demands._ _

__“England,” Harry says. He keeps his eyes focused on the helm, on what he’s doing. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Louis’ jaw set, firm and stubborn._ _

__This is heading to a fight, then, just as Harry thought it would._ _

__“You said that if I got you the gold you would let me stay,” Louis says, not bothering to keep his voice down._ _

__Harry keeps staring forward. Doesn’t want to risk looking at Louis right now, at the way his face would be ablaze with fury, indignation. Hurt. “I never said that.”_ _

__It’s true - Harry had never actually agreed to that. He had been very careful to never actually say those words. Not saying them means he’s not breaking his word when he returns Louis to his family._ _

__Clearly it’s not a good enough answer for Louis. He slaps a hand down between Harry’s on the helm and says, outrage in every word, “Were you fucking _lying_ to me?”_ _

__Technically speaking, in order to have been lying Harry would had to have said something untrue in the first place. And he hadn’t._ _

__He’s smart enough not to point that out._ _

__“We have to take you home,” he says shortly. “It’s dangerous for you to stay here. I can’t allow it.”_ _

__What he’s expecting in response to that he has no idea. It’s definitely not for Louis to grab his hand, lift it up long enough to wiggle between Harry and the helm with steely determination in his eyes, and say, “I’m not leaving.”_ _

__Automatically, Harry’s hand goes back up to where it had been before, gripping wood in between his fingers. He’s caging Louis in now, trapping him with nowhere to go. Louis doesn’t look like he wants to go anywhere, though, head tilted up and glaring directly at Harry, hair messy atop his head. He could probably do with a comb._ _

__“I won’t,” Harry starts, and then stops to suck his bottom lip into his mouth, considering his next words very carefully. “I can’t keep you from your family any longer. They must be worried about you.”_ _

__It’s better. Louis’ expression doesn’t get any less defiant but he doesn’t immediately begin shouting at Harry either, so it must be better. “I’ll write them a letter,” Louis says. “The only way you’re going to get me off this ship is by either abandoning me somewhere when we dock for supplies or dragging me kicking and screaming off when we reach England. This is where I want to be.”_ _

__Harry watches him and tries to think of something to say, something to convince Louis that being here isn’t right._ _

__“It’s freedom,” Louis adds, still looking up at Harry through the glint of the lantern hanging overhead. “Isn’t that what you said? Freedom. The type of freedom I’d never be able to have at home.”_ _

__Weakly, Harry says, “Don’t use my own words against me.”_ _

__Louis’ face gets more open, relaxed. It’s suspicious. Really, really suspicious, but Harry is having a hard time concentrating on that when Louis smells so fucking good. So good. “Please, alpha,” Louis says softly._ _

___Alpha_. Harry’s fingers curl into his fists. Can’t help but scent Louis properly now, bending his head so he’s closer to Louis’ skin, inhaling deeply. Wants to rub his nose over Louis’ neck, his mouth. Leave a little mark with his teeth. Just a little one, one that he’d have to work on every day until it’s a proper bruise._ _

__“Don’t,” Harry repeats, more of a snarl this time. He closes his eyes, overwhelmed even though he doesn’t understand why. Plenty of omegas have called him alpha before. Some of them even meant it. A single word shouldn’t be getting to him like this._ _

__“I know where there’s another island, alpha,” Louis continues._ _

__It’s more than Harry can take. Getting called _alpha_ in that tone by this particular omega, Harry can’t. He rips his hands off of the helm quickly, makes for the side of the ship at a pace nearing a flat out run, and jumps._ _

__Water closes in over his head instantly, surrounding his body. It weighs down his clothes, fills his mouth, and it’s uncomfortably cold, but for the first time in weeks that sweet, lingering scent of strawberries is completely gone._ _

__Harry stays under for as long as he can._ _

__

__Louis lets him have the night. They end up having to stop the ship completely in order to get Harry back on board, and by the time they do Louis has disappeared back into cabin. Harry dries off, steals a change of clothes from Liam, and spends the rest of the night lying flat on his back on the deck, staring up at the foggy night sky. He can’t stand to be with the crew right now, not with all these thoughts muddled up in his head._ _

__Harry has no illusions that the conversation is over. He just doesn’t have any idea how to convince Louis that he can’t stay._ _

__

__When dawn breaks, Liam sits at Harry’s side with two steaming mugs of tea in hand, and says, “You do realize that trying to convince him to change his mind is never going to work, right?”_ _

__Harry doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t see the point. “So what I am supposed to do, then, just let him stay aboard a pirate ship for the rest of his life?”_ _

__There’s the sound of slurping, presumably Liam drinking the tea. Harry doesn’t open his eyes to check. “You’re thinking about this all wrong,” Liam says eventually. The second cup of tea nudges against Harry’s bare arm. Harry takes it, sits up just enough that he can drink half of it in one gulp, and then collapses back down again._ _

__“Enlighten me, then.”_ _

__Liam sighs. “In the entire time I’ve known you, this is quite literally the only time I’ve ever seen you think about an omega primarily as an omega.”_ _

__Startled, Harry opens his eyes. The sun is blinding, so much so that he can’t even make out the expression on Liam’s face. He doesn’t even get a chance to say _what_ before Liam is continuing, “You’ve always treated omegas like people first and foremost, people who are capable of making their own decisions and leading their own lives. I’ve always thought that you thought the only difference between us and an omega is biology.”_ _

__“I do,” Harry says, sitting up. Liam offers him a crooked smile._ _

__“And if any other omega was on board right now I think you’d be giving them a chance to prove themselves, prove that this is where they want to be. So I guess the question is why aren’t you doing that with Louis?”_ _

__“Because Louis is a prince,” Harry says. Liam raises his eyebrows, pats Harry’s knee once and then stands._ _

__“If you say so,” he says, wandering away, leaving the mugs for Harry to deal with. The disrespect on this ship lately, honestly._ _

__

__Harry leaves the mugs where they are in favour of striding directly into his quarters. He can’t stop thinking about what Liam said._ _

__Louis is awake, sitting with his back against the wall and knees drawn up in front of him. He looks small, cozy. Like he belongs._ _

__“Liam said that if you were any other omega I’d be giving you a chance to prove that you want to stay,” Harry says abruptly, sinking down into the chair beside the desk. “He says I treat you like an omega.”_ _

__Louis shrugs slowly. “You do,” he says._ _

__Frustrated, Harry yanks a hand through his hair, trying to manage some of the tangles. Louis watches him do it with glittering eyes. “I don’t mean to,” Harry says, bothered by the idea. He doesn’t necessarily consider himself a pro-omega rights activist, but that’s more because of what he does than anything. Piracy doesn’t leave much time for activism, but Harry firmly believes that omegas are equal to alphas and betas. Or should be, at least._ _

__“I know,” Louis says, still calm and slow._ _

__This isn’t the conversation Harry came in here with the intention of having. Nonetheless, they’re having it. “I don’t know why I do it.”_ _

__“I do,” Louis tells him, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Would you like me to tell you?”_ _

__“No,” Harry says instantly. Doesn’t want to hear what he thinks Louis is going to say._ _

__Of course, Louis says it anyway. “It’s because there’s a part of you that wants me to be yours. It’s the same part that gets angry when I don’t do what you tell me, the same part of me that wants to let you put your hands all over me until the alpha in you is satisfied that I’m unharmed, that I smell the way I should.”_ _

___Like you_ goes unspoken. Harry tries very hard not to hear it. “I know what our biology is, the same that I know it’s _just_ biology.”_ _

__“You’re a terrible liar, Harry,” Louis says, arching his back. His spine cracks audibly, pleased look crossing his face. “What’s between us might be biology, but it’s not _just_ biology. You treat me like an omega because you can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like if I was _your_ omega, and I let you because the same pull you feel I do too. But don’t fool yourself into thinking for even a second that just because I’m an omega means that I’m attracted to every alpha I’ve ever met. There has been thousands of alphas in my life, Harry, and none of them feel the way you do to me.”_ _

__He stands, blanket pooling around his feet, and makes his way over to the door. It’s clear he’s finished with this conversation, that’s he dismissing Harry the way he does when he’s done with his presence - the way Harry hates - but Harry’s not._ _

__And so he blurts out, “One month.”_ _

__Louis pauses, looking at Harry over his shoulder. “A month?” he repeats._ _

__This is inevitably going to be a decision Harry regrets. “A month. We’ll go on your ridiculous treasure hunts and you can pretend to be a pirate, get the adventure you’ve always wanted, but at the end of the month we take you back to England and your real life and you don’t put up a fight about it.”_ _

__“A month,” Louis says thoughtfully, rolling the words around in his mouth as though he’s tasting them._ _

__“There will be rules,” Harry says. “Things you’re not allowed to do under any circumstances, and if you break those rules you’ll go back to England whether you like it or not.”_ _

__“A month, then,” Louis repeats, eyes still glittering. He doesn’t ask about any of the rules before leaving, which doesn’t bode well at all, but for some reason the heaviness in Harry’s chest sits a little lighter._ _

__A month._ _

__

__

__“Lift with your legs!” Harry shouts, blowing out a frustrated breath, attempting to get a piece of hair out of his eyes. It doesn’t work, stuck to his forehead with sweat. Great._ _

__Jason follows his orders, lifting his end of the beam properly, and they get going again, inching forward, straining with the weight of the wood balanced on their shoulders. He’s muttering something unflattering under his breath, Jason, but Harry doesn’t care to listen to it to find out what it is. It’s probably just something about Harry being overbearing. Harry’s used to it, shuts it down when necessary. Right now it’s just Jason blowing off a bit of steam at having to do all the heavy lifting lately - fucking flu going around again._ _

__On the way to the main boom, they pass Louis and Niall curled up in a corner together, sitting so close that Louis is practically in Niall’s lap. Harry blinks, but he doesn’t have time to question it, not with the weight on his shoulder threatening to send him to his knees._ _

__It takes over an hour to finish the repair. Harry hasn’t forgotten about the two of them curled up on the deck together, in full view of anyone who happened to be walking by._ _

__They’re still there by the time Harry is finished, leaning against the railing and talking quietly. Harry blinks at them again, but he leaves them be. He doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t. If he asks one of them might tell him and then he’d be involved. And Harry doesn’t want that. Getting even more involved with Louis is a terrible idea. Absolutely horrible. Harry’s resolve has already cracked in terms of getting Louis back to England in a timely fashion, the last thing he needs is to get even more involved with him._ _

__Harry concentrates on his duties at the helm, delegating and giving orders, and manages to forget about Louis and Niall sitting on the floor together, talking quietly. He actually does._ _

__Right up until Louis pats Niall on the shoulder, heaves himself up and disappears from view. Harry frowns in the direction he’d disappeared in, unable to stop himself from wondering what that was all about._ _

__His curiosity must be broadcasting pretty loudly. Niall makes his way over to Harry and hip checks him in greeting. “You wanna know what we were talking about, don’t you.”_ _

__It’s not a question. Harry denies it anyway. “No.”_ _

__“He said I could tell you if you asked,” Niall wheedles._ _

__Harry sighs. Says, “Fine,” and knows that Niall is laughing at him on the inside._ _

__At least it’s on the inside. Harry’s had enough of his crew laughing at him to last him a lifetime. And now they have _plenty_ of ammunition with Louis on board._ _

__“He’s homesick,” Niall says triumphantly, as though that’s something to be triumphant about. “Misses his family.”_ _

__Harry blinks. Of all the things Louis and Niall could have been talking about, this is one Harry was never expecting. Louis trying to wheedle information out of Niall, sure. Louis making fun of Harry behind his back, sure. Louis trying to win Niall over to the dark side, sure - never minding the fact that Niall is already on the dark side. He likes Louis, almost gushes about him sometimes. It’s disgusting. “Oh.”_ _

__“Doesn’t want to go home, though,” Niall continues as if Harry had asked, “Just wanted someone to talk to about it. Said that he knew if he tried to talk to you about it you would only try to convince him to go home again.”_ _

__Well. He’s not wrong about that._ _

__“Also said that me telling you all this isn’t an invitation to talk to him about it and that if you try he’s going to stab you in your sleep,” Niall says, patting Harry on the back. “Good lad, that Louis. Wouldn’t even know he’s a prince most of the time, either.”_ _

__It’s pointed, that last remark. Harry chooses to ignore it. He already has that argument with Louis enough as it is._ _

__“Go do some work,” he orders, patting Niall back. If it’s a little harder than how Niall had patted him, well. Harry is the Captain, after all._ _

__

__

__When it happens - when it finally, _finally_ happens - Louis is the one who initiates it. Not that it’s really any surprise._ _

__It’s out of nowhere, too. Harry will admit to himself that there’s been some tension between the two of them, that there’s _feelings_ , even if he won’t admit it out loud, but this - this is a new development._ _

__Louis has been in the cabin most of the day, a tired, wan look on his face, curled up in the pile of blankets on the floor. Harry had offered him the hammock but Louis had refused, drawing the blankets up to his chin and closing his eyes. Weak, sick._ _

__Harry slips into the cabin as quietly as he can manage, holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand and some crackers in the other, kneeling next to Louis’ prone form on the ground._ _

__“Lou,” he murmurs, setting the crackers down and using that hand to push the hair back off Louis’ face. His skin is clammy and sweaty, a little bit gross._ _

__They need to get some fluids into him, make sure he doesn’t get worse. Theoretically, Harry could have sent him down to the sick bay, but._ _

__He might not have been able to smell him from there._ _

__“Wanna sleep,” Louis croaks miserably, trying to draw back from Harry’s hand._ _

__Harry lets him. “I know, sweetheart. But you gotta have something to drink, make you feel better. I brought you tea.”_ _

__“Don’t want tea,” Louis mutters stubbornly, twisting a little. The blankets slip down his shoulder, exposing him to the air in the room._ _

__It’s not particularly cold, but it’s not particularly warm either. Harry pulls the blankets back up, taking the opportunity to brush his fingers along Louis’ bare shoulder, checking the temperature. He’s warm, but not overly so. It’s probably just the flu._ _

__“Unfortunately for you I’m not going to leave until you drink it,” Harry tells him._ _

__Louis’ mouth tugs up into a reluctant smile, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “Stubborn alpha,” he says, dragging one hand up to allow Harry to place the cup into it._ _

__Harry’s laugh is mostly amused. He doesn’t think there’s much to worry about, but sickness has a way of prevailing on a ship, spreading._ _

__Worsening._ _

__“Stubborn omega,” he says, watching as Louis takes a few sips of the tea, swallowing with only a little difficulty. “Crackers, too.” Pushes the plate towards Louis’ hand._ _

__Louis shakes his head weakly, putting the cup down and reaching for Harry’s hand. “Later,” he says. “Come here.”_ _

__His voice is slow, soft. Harry bends his head, expecting Louis to ask for some water or another blanket, something like that._ _

__Instead, he gets the soft press of Louis’ mouth against his, hot and dry. Just for a second, an instant. Brief, before Louis is shuffling back down into his blankets, patting at Harry’s hand sloppily. “When I feel better I’m going to kiss you properly.”_ _

__All Harry can do is blink helplessly at Louis’ tired face, at his closed eyes, at his serene expression._ _

__Yeah. Harry’s definitely in over his head._ _

__

__Ignoring it isn’t an option. Harry spends the rest of the day thinking about it, Louis’ mouth on his, germ infested and too warm, lips chapped and dry._ _

__Yeah. Ignoring it is not an option._ _

__It takes two days for Louis to finish recovering, until he’s back to his normal self, walking around and trying to get people to do his bidding, and in that time Harry thinks about the kiss. A lot. A lot more than he should be thinking about it, considering that it was only a brief, dry press of lips. Barely even intimate._ _

__It doesn’t help that Louis spends those two days watching him, half groggy and whiny, complaining when his tea is too cold or his blankets too warm. He’s not a very good patient, at least not now that he’s on the mend, as thick headed and stubborn as ever. The prickle of his gaze on Harry’s body is intense, to say the least. He definitely wasn’t joking about trying to get a proper kiss once he was better._ _

__Harry can’t let that happen and hold onto his sanity at the same time, so once Louis is walking around, back to irritating half the crew and enamoring the other half, he makes his move._ _

__His move being that he drags Louis back into his cabin, sits him down, and says, quite firmly, “That kiss was a mistake.”_ _

__Well. They’re standing, but the point remains._ _

__“You’re right,” Louis agrees easily. Harry blinks, confused. “I should have waited until I was better so I wasn’t putting you at risk of becoming ill.”_ _

__Harry blinks again. Starts, “No - ”_ _

__“But you didn’t fall ill, luckily,” Louis continues as if Harry hadn’t been in the middle of speaking, “and now we can do it for real.”_ _

__Pretty little omega who’s too capable of running circles around Harry when he’s least expecting it. Harry is determined not to let now be one of those times._ _

__“I don’t want to kiss you,” he says bluntly._ _

__Louis’ expression doesn’t even waver. “Yes you do.”_ _

__Maybe the problem is how much leeway Harry gives him. He probably thinks Harry is weak and that he can walk all over him. Not enough backbone._ _

__Harry wouldn’t talk this kind of sass from any of his crew. Or. At least, not to the extent Louis gives it to him, never ending and over the top. His crew sasses him but they also get their jobs done, coming together to work as an united team whenever necessary. And they all listen to Harry, which is something Louis doesn’t do._ _

__It’s time Harry started _making_ him listen._ _

__“Why would I want to kiss a mouthy little omega like you?” Harry asks, stepping forward almost unconsciously, backing Louis into the wall. Heat drips through his veins, smoldering and gentle. He isn’t ready for it. He’s especially not ready for the way Louis tips his head up, exposing the line of his throat._ _

__It’s not - it’s just because Harry is taller than him and he has to look up to meet his eyes. That’s all it is. That’s all it’s _allowed_ to be._ _

__“Because you watch my mouth,” Louis says. “All the time. Whenever I’m speaking. Sometimes even when I’m not.”_ _

__Christ, Harry hadn’t even realized he’d been doing that, let alone enough for Louis to have picked up on it. “So?” Harry asks, unable to stop himself from pressing forward, leaving only an inch of space between their bodies. “Just means I’m wondering what shit you’re going to say next.”_ _

__“You’re a liar,” Louis says, touching the back of Harry’s hand lightly. “You spend hours every day thinking about kissing me. You’re very obvious about it.”_ _

__Harry pulls his hand away. It’s hard thinking clearly when they’re this close to each other. “I spend hours every day thinking about how much better my life will be when we finally drop you off in England.”_ _

__“And thinking about what my mouth would taste like,” Louis persists._ _

__Harry swallows. “No.”_ _

__Unbidden, his eyes drag down the smooth column of Louis’ throat, flicking over the beat of his pulse. He’d like to taste that quiver, feel how it flickers underneath his tongue. See if he tastes as smooth as he looks. See if he tastes like something sweet._ _

__“You’re thinking about it right now,” Louis says softly, touching Harry’s hand again. “What I taste like.”_ _

__He really shouldn’t be able to see right through Harry like this. Harry licks his lips, forcing his eyes away from Louis’ throat. Can’t quite manage to convince himself to step away._ _

__“So what if I am?” he asks, frustrated. His hand smacks against the wall abruptly, right beside Louis’ head, but Louis doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stop looking up at Harry from underneath his eyelashes, lips slightly parted. Waiting to be kissed. Wanting to be kissed._ _

__Harry presses his face into his own arm, breathing raggedly. Louis’ fingers slide up his wrist slowly, along his forearm. Come to a halt in the crook of his elbow. “It doesn’t matter if I am,” Harry repeats. “I can’t kiss you. I’m not going to.”_ _

__Louis’ breathing isn’t much steadier than Harry’s. He doesn’t let go of Harry’s arm as he says, “I want you to.”_ _

__Oh, Harry can _smell_ how much Louis wants him to. His scent is thick and almost cloying with it, desperate. The problem isn’t Harry being unsure whether Louis wants him to._ _

__He takes a deep breath, pushes himself back so he can meet Louis’ eyes, and says, as gently as he can manage, “Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you want something.”_ _

__It’s something Harry knows entirely too well._ _

__“You’re so full of shit,” Louis says, digging his fingernails into Harry’s arm. Outrage filters across his face, clear and honest. “I’m not anyone’s fucking _property_ , you arsehole, just because I’m omega doesn’t mean - ”_ _

__Harry kisses him._ _

__As far as first kisses go, it could be better. Harry’s not thinking about it as he does it, so their noses end up bumping rather painfully, foreheads clunking, and he’s pretty sure Louis gets a mouthful of his hair._ _

__Except none of that really matters when their lips actually meet, soft and dry. It’s reminiscent of the kiss they shared when Louis was sick._ _

__At least, until Louis presses his tongue against the seam of Harry’s lips and everything gets dirty fast. Before he even knows it Harry’s pressing full body into Louis, holding him against the wall with one hand anchored around the back of his neck and the other against his hip. It’s hot and wet and slick, tongues moving against each other._ _

__And it tastes like strawberries. Louis. He tastes like strawberries._ _

__Harry doesn’t pull away until that strawberry scent becomes overwhelming, Louis’ arousal leaking out of his pores and directly into Harry’s brain. It’s hard, already wanting to be back on him, kissing him breathless, senseless. Harry can’t even manage to pull that far back, breathing heavily, wetly, against the gorgeous curve of Louis’ jaw, only just resisting the urge to bite. Suck a mark into his skin, one that no one will be able to deny._ _

__“You’re driving me crazy,” Harry grits out, sliding his hand over Louis’ hip. It’s possessive and intoxicating and all he wants to do is slide it around him entirely, get a feel of his arse. See if he’s damp._ _

__He smells like he might be damp._ _

__Louis licks his lips as if he’s chasing the taste of Harry’s mouth. “You could kiss me again,” he says softly. “Might make you feel better.”_ _

__Harry laughs, pained at the thought. It probably _would_ make him feel better. “Shouldn’t have even kissed you in the first place.”_ _

__“But you did,” Louis says, less soft. “And pretending that you didn’t is never going to work.” He meets Harry’s gaze, challenging._ _

__Harry knows. He leans back in and kisses Louis again, resisting the temptation to give him some tongue. It still lasts too long, longer than Harry had been intending, and it’s hard to pull away. For real this time, with enough space between them that they’re not touching anymore. “This can’t happen again,” Harry says firmly, clearly._ _

__Louis watches him with glittering eyes. “Okay,” he says._ _

__He’s not agreeing._ _

__

__“So if we take the course through the Bahamas?” Harry asks, tracing a finger over the map on the table in front of him._ _

__Niall adds his own finger to the map, tapping it in a rhythm Harry doesn’t recognize. “Should get us there in half the time, if that.”_ _

__“More dangerous, though,” Harry observes. Niall shoots him a sharp grin, slapping Harry’s hand away from the map and rolling it up._ _

__“That’s half the fun, innit?” he asks, steadying himself with one hand against the wall as the ship rocks violently. There’s a storm brewing - Harry can feel it in his bones. “I’ll let Zayn know to re-set the course.”_ _

__He doesn’t wait for an answer, striding easily towards the door. “Oh, and put on some fresh clothes, you stink!” he shouts over his shoulder, disappearing from view._ _

__Harry sighs heavily. Then he realizes that Niall is _right_ \- he does stink, enough that he can smell himself. It’s pretty gross. A change of clothes would actually do him well. With that in mind, he heads back to his cabin, ready to wipe a cloth over his face and under his arms, get some of the sweat off._ _

__All of that flies completely out of his head the second he opens the door for one simple reason._ _

__Louis is naked._ _

__Louis is _naked_._ _

__All Harry can do is stand there and gape for a second. Louis doesn’t even notice him at first, humming to himself as he runs his fingers over the clothes he’s laid out on the hammock, as if he’s trying to decide what he wants to put on. His back is to Harry, all clean, bare lines, swell of his arse biteable and soft._ _

__For some reason, Harry steps farther into the room instead of out of it, closing the door behind him softly. The sound draws Louis’ attention, has him turning around before he thinks the better of it, and -_ _

__Harry wants to cry. Louis is so pretty all over, cock lying soft between his thighs, nipples standing out pink and dusty on his chest, so gorgeous. More than anything, Harry wants to taste every inch of him, see if his nipples taste different than his belly, if his cock tastes different than his arse._ _

__It’s only a split second look before Louis yelps and fumbles for something to cover himself with, the most appealing pink flush in his cheeks. “Harry,” he breathes._ _

__There’s a lump in Harry’s throat that he has to work to swallow past. “I,” he says dumbly. It’s so hot in here. A bead of sweat slips down the back of his neck. “Change. I came to change.”_ _

__Louis’ tongue darts out to lick at his bottom lip. “I was changing,” he replies, just as dumbly. Harry still kind of wants to cry - this is the most unfair thing he’s ever experienced._ _

__Then Louis blinks, eyelashes sweeping against his cheeks slowly, and drops the shirt._ _

__Scratch that, _this_ is the most unfair thing Harry has ever experienced. His mouth is dry, has to curl his fingers into his palms so he won’t do something stupid. It would be so easy to do something stupid right now. Louis is practically _begging for it_ , and Harry - he has to be the reasonable one._ _

__He’s never liked being the reasonable one._ _

__“Put some clothes on,” he croaks helplessly, sagging back against the door. Can’t hold up his own weight any more. Tries very hard not to let his eyes stray down past Louis’ collarbones, but it’s hard. It’s so hard._ _

__“No,” Louis says, lacing his hands together in front of his belly. “Don’t think I will.”_ _

__Again, Harry swallows. It’s just as hard as it was before. “Okay,” he says eventually. “I’m gonna. Go.”_ _

__He rakes his eyes over Louis’ body one last time, has to. _Has to_. Can’t stop himself from it. Before he leaves the room, sagging immediately against a wall and burying his face in his knees, trying to catch his breath._ _

__That can never happen again. Harry’s alpha is already beating at its cage, demanding freedom, demanding the permission to be set free so he can take Louis over and over again, until neither of them can remember their own names, until they’re spent and sore._ _

__This can never happen again._ _

__

__It happens again. Of course it happens again. It happens again and again and again, repeatedly, until Harry is about to go crazy, pull his hair out at the roots from it. It’s intentional. It’s clearly intentional, Louis’ nakedness, and he’s getting more and more confident with every time, and Harry is _going fucking crazy_._ _

__There has to be some middle ground, here._ _

__“Listen to me,” Harry says firmly, slamming the door to his cabin closed behind him with his foot. Louis looks up, startled, already opening his mouth to speak._ _

__That’s not going to happen right now. “You’re going to cut the shit with the nakedness,” Harry continues just as firmly, holding a hand up to stop Louis’ words in their tracks. “I’m prepared to offer you a trade.”_ _

__Louis’ mouth twists in consideration. “What kind of trade?” he asks._ _

__Harry inhales slowly, tries to remind himself that this is clearly the lesser of two evils. And that just because he’s an alpha doesn’t mean that he can’t control himself. “If you stop with the nakedness I’ll agree to the kissing.”_ _

__Almost unconsciously, Louis’ tongue darts out to wet his lips, pink and soft. “You’ll agree to the kissing,” he repeats slowly._ _

__Harry nods. “Within reason,” he adds belatedly, crossing his arms over his chest. Tries to ignore the scent wafting off Louis’ body. “We can - we can kiss. A little. One kiss a day.”_ _

__Louis’ eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you,” he says, pushing himself up off the ground. “You’re gonna have to prove it.”_ _

__Prove it. _Prove it_. Christ, Harry’s getting himself into so much trouble, here._ _

__“Fine,” he all but snarls, stalking over to pin Louis against the wall, taking his mouth in a hot, brutal kiss, blood thundering through his veins. Every good reason _not_ to do this flies out of Harry’s brain, consumed by the taste of Louis, so sweet and receptive, eager, tongue pushing past Harry’s lip and into his mouth._ _

__Harry slides his hands up Louis’ arms, pins him tighter. Kisses him harder, sucking on his tongue. Can’t stop his cock from responding, already gone thick and hard in his trousers. Listens to Louis’ whimpering with triumph._ _

__Barely manages to pull away._ _

__“That - that was your one for the day,” he says, telling his hands to uncurl from Louis’ arms. It takes them a minute to respond. Can’t manage anything else, just whirls around on his heel and stalks out of the room, resisting the urge to palm over the bulge in his trousers._ _

__This is going to get him into so much trouble._ _

__

__

__It’s been a long day. Harry’s muscles are sore, he’s got a small cut that’s stinging and itchy on his upper arm, and his hair is tangled around his head. More than anything, he wants to crash face first into his bed and sleep until the sun is about to set again._ _

__Except he walks into his cabin and the first thing that happens is he bangs his shin against a bath tub sitting in the middle of the room._ _

__A bath tub._ _

__“What the hell?” Harry asks blankly, staring down at it. The water in it is still steaming gently, rippling._ _

__“I shouldn’t be surprised that the likes of you has never seen a bath tub before,” Louis sniffs. Harry looks up, across the room, and nearly chokes on his own spit, because the only thing Louis is wearing is a thin bathrobe, belted at the waist, sitting atop Harry’s desk with one leg folded over the other, glass of Harry’s whiskey in his hand._ _

__Harry can’t deal with him right now. It’s been too long of a day, everything hurts and he wants to sleep. But the water is already there, already hot, and nothing ever goes to waste on board a pirate ship._ _

__So it’s only natural that he starts stripping out of his clothes, ignoring the way Louis’ eyes are pinned to him. Normally Harry would take great care to ensure that he doesn’t get naked while Louis is still in the room, but it’s been a bad day. The pleasure of Louis’ eyes raking over his body, even if it is only Harry’s back, is a much needed boost._ _

__Neither of them say anything as Harry climbs into the water, letting his eyes slip closed before he’s even all the way down, heat instantly soaking into his muscles and loosening them._ _

__Forget sleep. _This_ is exactly what Harry needs right now._ _

__Harry’s so into the bath he doesn’t even register the sound of Louis’ footsteps nearing him until he’s right there, next to the tub, dragging a hand through the water. “You’re sitting in my dirty bath water,” he observes, flicking water at Harry’s upper arm._ _

__Harry sighs and sinks deeper. It’s not exactly an displeased sigh. “If you weren’t a prince you would be the last person to ever get a bath.”_ _

__The rough drag of a cloth against his shoulder should come as a shock. It does, kind of, but Harry doesn’t jump. He probably shouldn’t be letting Louis do this - definitely shouldn’t be letting Louis do this, actually, but he’s tired. So tired._ _

__“If I wasn’t a prince you would let me bathe first every time,” Louis says, voice low as if not to disturb the stillness of the room. “Because you’re a _gentleman_.”_ _

__Harry doesn’t even have the energy to deny it, that’s how tired he is. He would, anyway, and denying it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. “Oi, hands above the waist,” he says, still not opening his eyes as Louis’ hand dips a little too far south._ _

__Louis huffs, scrubbing the cloth over Harry’s chest a little too roughly. “Only you would stop the most gorgeous omega you’ve ever laid eyes on from getting you off,” he grumbles._ _

__If it were that simple, Harry would let him. Tired as he is, his cock is still taking an interest in the way Louis’ hands are all over him, touching him more than Harry’s ever allowed him to touch before, thickening up under the thin veil of the water. He has no illusions that Louis isn’t looking, either, ogling._ _

__“You’re awfully full of yourself tonight,” Harry murmurs, reaching up to blindly grab for Louis’ wrist, wet skin to wet skin. He presses a kiss to the back of Louis’ knuckles, lingering._ _

__“You’re awfully obliging tonight,” Louis returns, opening his hand to let the cloth drop into the water. “Bet if I asked real nice you’d let me climb in there with you.”_ _

__No, Harry wouldn’t. It’s already too tempting, knowing the only thing separating them is a thin bathrobe, how easy it would be to just pull Louis in the tub with him, open him up and spear him with Harry’s cock. Especially when he knows Louis wouldn’t say no._ _

__“I’ve had a long day,” Harry says, smearing the words into Louis’ skin, breathing him in. The smell of clean skin and ripe strawberries. “And I’m tired and my defenses are down. You really trying to take advantage of that?”_ _

__“Absolutely,” Louis answers, no hesitation at all. Harry can’t help his smile, bracing a foot against the bottom of the tub and pulling Louis a little closer._ _

__“Alright,” he says, sliding his hand up to curl around the back of Louis’ neck, guiding him into the right position. “Come and take advantage of me for a while, then.”_ _

__He doesn’t need to wait for an answer. Louis is closing the gap between them before Harry’s even finished speaking, lining up their mouths and kissing him._ _

__Almost instantly, the leftover tightness in Harry’s chest eases. He threads his fingers in Louis’ hair as they kiss, other hand coming up out of the water to smooth across Louis’ cheek, hold him where Harry needs him right now._ _

__Everything feels better. That must be a coincidence._ _

__“You should get out before you start pruning,” Louis murmurs eventually, pulling back a few inches._ _

__Harry opens his eyes slowly, fingers still laced through Louis’ hair at the nape of his neck. Doesn’t let Louis go any further. “It’s not like you not to push for more.”_ _

__Louis’ smile is soft and small, private. “Giving you a break, aren’t I.”_ _

__If Harry was less tired he would definitely be more interested in _why_ Louis is giving him a break. As it is, his fingers are getting suspiciously pruny, water long since gone cold. He really should get out before he falls asleep in here._ _

__“You’re wearing my robe,” Harry points out, dragging his fingers across Louis’ neck gently. Louis makes a noise and leans into it, gaze still fixed on Harry’s face._ _

__“S’mine now, innit.”_ _

__Harry sighs. It’s much less irritated than he would like. By the time he manages to convince Louis to fetch him a towel, dry off and roll into bed, all the stress of the day has pretty much melted out of his body._ _

__

__“Tell me something,” Louis says, using his toes to sway the hammock gently, one arm folded up underneath his head, staring up at the ceiling._ _

__Harry makes a vague, inquisitive sound low in the back of his throat. He’s mostly asleep, blankets warm and cozy, pulled up over his shoulders, hair tangled around his head. He’s only intending to nap for a few hours before he gets up again to take a shift at the helm - a few of the crew have come down with a flu and it’s all hands on deck until they get better._ _

__“If we were to run into the coast guard how would you account for me?”_ _

__Well now _that’s_ an interesting question. One he probably won’t like the answer to. Harry stays quiet, hoping Louis will think he’s fallen asleep._ _

__Louis doesn’t. “Don’t make me come down there,” he warns._ _

__Scoffing is way more important than pretending to be asleep. “What are you going to do if you do? Elbow me to death?”_ _

__Louis kicks at him blindly, barely making contact. “If I come down there you’re going to snog me until you can’t feel your own tongue anymore,” he says confidently. “So either tell me how you would account for me or I’m coming down there.”_ _

__It’s a threat Louis will definitely make good on. And Harry is not strong enough to reject him right now, not sleep muddled and sluggish._ _

__Carefully, Harry says, “Technically you’re listed as loot. If we were to be stopped by another ship we can’t have you listed as crew without risking someone figuring out the truth. It’s safest this way for all of us.”_ _

__Louis is silent. Harry opens his eyes all the way and props himself up on an elbow, trying to make out Louis’ expression through the gloom of the room. It’s the honest truth - it’s the best scenario for if they get caught, Louis being listed as loot._ _

__“Well,” Louis says eventually, “I’m not happy about it, but I can’t deny your logic.”_ _

__Christ, he’s not happy about it but he can’t deny the logic? This is the only time Harry’s ever witnessed him being so rational. There must be a catch somewhere._ _

__Before he can figure it out, Harry falls asleep. He’ll wake up cursing himself for it in the morning._ _

__

__There’s a chess set sitting in the middle of Harry’s desk, set up with all the pieces still gleaming slightly. New and unused._ _

__Harry blinks at it. “Do I even want to know?” he ventures. Louis is sitting at the desk, perched atop a chair daintily, mug of ale at his elbow._ _

__“I’m going to teach you how to play chess,” he says firmly, gesturing to the empty seat across from him._ _

__Harry sits, but only because he wants to. Not because Louis has told him to. “What makes you think I don’t already know how to play chess?”_ _

__Louis levels him with a flat stare. “Do you?”_ _

__No, Harry doesn’t. Learning how to play chess has never exactly been one of his top priorities, what with the running of a pirate ship and all. Chess is a rich man’s game and Harry is a lot of things, but he’s never been a rich man._ _

__“Supposing I don’t,” Harry says, reaching out to tap the board. “Where would I start?”_ _

__Louis smiles, one side of his mouth tugging up. “Why don’t we make it interesting first.”_ _

__

__In the first two rounds of chess, they’ve drank six cups of ale between the two of them and Harry has lost both times, which means he’s also lost his jacket and his boots. Sitting half naked in front of one of the most important omegas in the world should probably feel a little more intimidating._ _

__The only thing it feels is thrilling. And a little infuriating - as it turns out, Louis is really good at chess and he’s completely unwilling to even come close to losing. Normally Harry hates losing. It’s one of his worst qualities, he knows, but it’s also one of the things that makes him such a good Captain, so it all evens out in the end, right?_ _

__“You’re the worst,” Harry groans, staring down at the board in dismay as Louis declares checkmate and tips Harry’s king over._ _

__Louis shrugs, stretching his arms out behind his back in a way that’s clearly meant to draw Harry’s attention away from the board and onto him. It’s really very obvious. Harry falls for it anyway. “So what are you going to take off next?” he asks instead of pretending to be contrite about winning yet again. “My vote goes for the trousers.”_ _

__He waggles his eyebrows lasciviously, hands coming back around to drop into his lap again. “You don’t get a vote, you little tart,” Harry says, bending down to peel his socks off._ _

__Louis’ sigh is over-dramatic and loud. He splays himself out along the chair as much as he can, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering. So this is what he looks like drunk, then. Harry never thought to be curious about it._ _

__They’re definitely not playing another game, though. While Harry’s ego is undeniably bruised, he’s not going to subject himself to another loss and have to take off a real piece of clothing, his shirt or his trousers, and allow Louis to ogle him. That just seems like a terrible decision._ _

__“Not sure I can be a tart without having had sex before,” Louis says thoughtfully. Harry’s head bangs against the underside of the table._ _

___Ow_. Shit, that actually hurt. _ _

__On the plus side, the throbbing in Harry’s head is completely deterring anything else from throbbing. So. Kinda win?_ _

__“Okay!” Harry says brightly, shoving himself far enough away from the table so he doesn’t hit his head again and standing up. “That’s enough of that, I think.” He starts clearing away the chess board and pieces, sweeping them back into their box._ _

__Tries to ignore the heat of Louis’ gaze on his back._ _

__“Wow,” Louis says slowly. “It makes you _uncomfortable_.”_ _

__“I’m not uncomfortable,” Harry denies uncomfortably. The game is back in the box now, leaving him with nothing to do with his hands. It’s out there in the open now. The words have been said and they can’t be taken back._ _

__Louis is a _virgin_._ _

__It’s not something Harry didn’t know. It is, however, something Harry never expected to hear come out of Louis’ mouth._ _

__“You are,” Louis says, still slow, languid. The words practically roll out of his mouth. “Me talking about my sexual experiences makes you uncomfortable.”_ _

__“You haven’t _had_ any sexual experiences,” Harry points out, unable to stop himself. Louis is still watching him._ _

__Harry clears his throat and forces himself to stop fidgeting. He’s an alpha, goddammit, and he’s not going to fidget because an omega is taunting him with his virginity. Harry is stronger than that._ _

__“Do you want to give me one?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows. “Captain Harry Styles, would you like to be my first?” He’s still drunk and not likely to remember much of this in the morning, but at the same time he doesn’t seem to be giving up._ _

__Harry flees._ _

__

__

__“I need a shave,” Louis muses, dragging a wet hand over his face, stray droplets of water catching on his beard, short and bristly._ _

__Harry scoffs. “As if I’m going to trust you with a razor.”_ _

__It’s hard enough thinking straight, knowing that Louis is completely naked, submerged in the only bathtub on the ship, steaming water rippling around him with every tiny movement. He’s testing Harry’s patience and he knows it, uses it to his advantage._ _

__Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when Louis is asleep and Harry is still wide awake, he thinks about it, how it would feel to give in, give Louis what he wants, what he’s been asking for all this time._ _

__Louis’ head tips back, exposing the line of his throat. “No one’s asking you to.”_ _

__It’s implicit, what he’s asking Harry to do. Harry still has to swallow before he can respond. “I’m not going to do that.”_ _

__One of Louis’ knees comes up above the water, tempting Harry’s eyes to stray to regions they shouldn’t. He’s still pure, Louis, and he’s going to remain that way until Harry deposits him safely back in England for his father to worry over._ _

__It’ll be a much needed relief._ _

__“You are, though,” Louis says softly, peering up at Harry from underneath his eyelashes, smoky and pretty, asking for things he shouldn’t want from a man like Harry. A man who would take him over and over again, fill him up until he cries from it. “Because I’m asking you to.”_ _

__Nearly two months of experience has taught Harry that Louis is right, and it’s the only reason he gives in so quickly. He’s not weak, not really, it’s just - he may be weak for Louis._ _

__There’s a razor and towel lying conveniently on the table next to the tub. Harry still doesn’t know how Louis arranges these things - it’s not like his crew to take the time to bring bucket after bucket of hot water for someone to bathe in, much less someone who’s technically not even part of the crew._ _

__“If I do this you’re going to be quiet for the rest of the night,” Harry orders, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing the supplies. Louis is docile in the tub, unmoving, and if it wasn’t for the smell of him Harry could almost believe that this is innocent._ _

__Almost._ _

__“Yes, alpha,” Louis agrees, still watching him from underneath his eyelashes, and it’s not fair, the way Harry’s cock immediately responds to the term, throbbing in his trousers._ _

__He works up a nice lather of soap and slathers Louis’ face with it, his jaw, his neck, possibly gentler than necessary. Louis hums, eyes slipping closed all the way, head tilting back, giving Harry more room to work with. It’d probably be best if Harry did this quickly, efficiently. Just get it over with._ _

__Instead, he’s almost reverent as he drags the blade over Louis’ skin, slow and smooth. It’s sharp, this razor, and Harry could do anything like this, while Louis is so vulnerable, so trusting. He could press the blade into Louis’ skin, take his life, before Louis could even lift a hand to stop him._ _

___He trusts you because you’re his alpha_ , a little voice inside his head whispers. It’s a hard thought to shake._ _

__Louis’ skin is soft and baby fine. Harry makes two more passes over his jaw, wiping the razor against the towel. He’s having a hard time convincing his eyes not to wander, made even harder by his brain insisting it’s fine, that this omega is _his_ omega, that this omega _wants_ Harry’s eyes raking all over him, making him hot and flushed and shaky._ _

__This omega does want that. This omega has made no secret of wanting that._ _

__“Harry,” Louis whispers, throat working. His hand comes up to clutch at Harry’s forearm, shifting in the water, getting Harry’s sleeve wet._ _

__Harry stops trying not to look. He lets his eyes roam over Louis’ body, down his freshly smooth neck, over his collarbones, lingering on his nipples, pink and pebbled, down over his soft little belly, to the spread of his thighs and the heft of his cock, head poking up through the water._ _

__“Harry,” Louis says again, pleading this time. He’s asking for something Harry can’t give him, won’t give him._ _

__Instead, he drags the cloth through the water, wetting it, and brings it up to clean the last of the soap off of Louis’ face, still gentle._ _

__Then he kisses him._ _

__Louis opens up for it immediately, already making soft, desperate noises, other hand coming up to clutch at Harry’s shoulder. His mouth and soft and silky inside, hot, and he gives back just as good as he gets, hand slipping up into Harry’s hair, gripping him tight._ _

__Harry tilts him back further, tongue tracing along the curve of Louis’ bottom lip, one hand underneath Louis’ neck and the other sliding down his wet arm, curling underneath his knee, spreading him out even more, as much as he can in the confines of the bath._ _

__Louis whimpers. Harry can smell him even through the water, through the scent of the soap, pheromones reacting to Harry’s, mingling with them. Harry could haul him up out of the water and take him while he’s still dripping onto the floor, give him what he needs._ _

__He wants to. His mouth waters with how much he wants to. His cock presses up against the fly of his trousers, wanting, needing. If he could just have him this one time -_ _

__No. One time would never be enough._ _

__Harry pulls away with a snarl, water sloshing over the sides of the tub, and stalks out of the room, all the way to the end of the ship, resting his hands against the railing and breathing heavily, trying to get the scent of Louis’ need out of his nostrils._ _

__It’s easier said than done._ _

__The moonlight is shining weakly over the deck, bathing everything in a soft glow. It’s no surprise when the scent of Louis hits him again, stronger this time without the water to dilute it. Right behind him._ _

__“Go back to the cabin,” Harry says, voice rough, gripping wood between his fingers so hard he’s almost afraid it might splinter._ _

__Louis’ skin is soft where it brushes up against him. He covers Harry’s hand with his own, trying to get his attention. “Why? Will you be joining me?”_ _

__Harry can’t look at him, won’t look at him. “Go back to the cabin,” he repeats. The smell is almost worse out here in the open, faint scent of Louis’ slick still permeating the air._ _

__Harry wants him. Harry wants him almost more than anything, but if he has him he’s not going to be able to let him go._ _

__“So you can go back to ignoring me?” Louis demands, shoving himself into the space between Harry’s body and the railing. “Might as well go down and sleep with the crew, then.”_ _

__He doesn’t mean it. He’s only saying it to get a reaction. Harry still has a hard time not bristling. “Feel free,” he manages, uncurling one hand from the railing to let Louis out._ _

__Louis doesn’t move an inch. “You’d let me do that?” he asks, pressing himself back into Harry’s space, fitting their bodies together. “Sleep in a room with dozens of alphas? All by myself, where any of them could do _anything_ to me? Touch me? Take me?”_ _

__“I’m not in charge of you,” Harry says, curling his fingers around Louis’ hips, unable to stop himself. Louis has to remain pure, will remain pure. Harry’s not going to take him, no matter what his libido is trying to tell him._ _

__“You’re not,” Louis agrees easily, slipping a hand underneath the hem of Harry’s shirt, ghosting over his stomach. “I’m in charge of you. I’m in charge of you, but there’s no way you’d let me do that, let me sleep with your crew, not when you could stop it.”_ _

__He’s driving Harry crazy, the smell of him so close, still turned on and practically begging for it, for Harry to take him, for Harry to be the _first_ to take him. If he doesn’t get out of this situation right now Harry might do something he’ll regret._ _

__There’s no other option. He lets go of Louis, takes two steps around him, and jumps overboard, into the cool night sea._ _

__

__It’s hard to ignore the clanging of sword against sword when it’s not even twenty feet away from him. Harry tries his best, concentrating on what he’s supposed to be doing even though he isn’t quite sure what that was supposed to be anymore._ _

__“Good, but a little faster next time,” Liam is saying, clearly a note on Louis’ technique, and Harry can’t make himself not look any longer. He lets his gaze drift up, immediately zeroing in on the section of the deck Liam has claimed for sparring time, and watches in silence for a few minutes._ _

__Louis is good. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead that says he’s putting his all into it, and while he’ll never be as good as Liam is Harry doesn’t doubt his ability to hold his own in a sword fight. The lessons he received at the castle probably made Liam’s teachings of how to fight like a pirate much easier to comprehend._ _

__It should make Harry breathe easier. It’s one of the major things he’s been worried about all this time, after all, Louis’ ability to fend off any attackers should they appear._ _

__The only thing is - Louis probably won’t have a sword on him when they do._ _

__“Li,” Harry calls, abandoning his task altogether, “you gotta teach him hand to hand, mate. He’s not likely to have a sword on hand should he need it.”_ _

__Liam takes a quick glance between Harry and Louis, eyebrows furrowed. His chest is heaving a little, a sure sign that Louis has been putting him through his paces. There’s damp patches in a few spots where he’s sweated through the material of his shirt, and it’s a little bit of a strange sight. Normally when Liam spars with someone he’s shirtless, gets too hot otherwise. There’s one reason he’s been keeping his shirt on with Louis, and it doesn’t have anything to do with respecting the fact that Louis is an omega._ _

__No, Liam’s lack of shirtlessness has everything to do with what he thinks Harry will do if he spars with Louis without something to cover his chest. Namely, he thinks Harry will flip out. He hasn’t said as much, but he doesn’t need to. Over a decade of friendship means Harry knows it regardless._ _

__Before Harry can question his hesitance, Liam has abandoned his sword and is striding over to Harry’s position. Harry makes a face as he nears, doesn’t really want to know what this is about._ _

__“Harry, you know I love you,” Liam begins without preamble, standing close enough to Harry that no one is likely to overhear, “but if you think I’m going to teach that omega hand to hand you’re seriously fucked in the head.”_ _

__Harry blinks. Doesn’t understand where Liam is going with this._ _

__The confusion must be clear on Harry’s face. Liam elaborates, “What do you think is going to happen when I put a hand on him? I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, you’re going to go crazy and try to kill me. And either you’ll succeed or I’ll have to knock you out, neither of which will look good to the crew. So either way, it’s a lose-lose situation.”_ _

__Harry blinks again. “I wouldn’t go crazy,” he objects._ _

__Liam stares him down. “Yes, you would. And it’s not happening, anyway, so we don’t have to worry about it.”_ _

__Christ, Harry hates it when Liam decides to be obstinate. Ninety-nine percent of the time he’s easy-going, takes a direct order if Harry gives it to him, doesn’t try to fuck with the system they’ve got going here, but every once in a while he’ll get it in his head that Harry is wrong about something and really dig his heels in. When that happens, there’s practically no chance of Harry being able to change his mind._ _

__He has to try, though._ _

__“He needs to know at least the basics, Li,” Harry says reasonably, keeping to _Li_. No need to use Liam’s full name and have him know what Harry is trying to do. “He’s an omega aboard a pirate ship, something could happen at any moment. If he doesn’t know how to defend himself without a sword there’s no telling what could happen to him. And we’re responsible for him whether we like it or not, so it’s up to us to teach him.”_ _

__Liam shakes his head, reaching out to tap Harry’s chest. “It’s up to _you_. I’m not getting myself killed because your dumb alpha arse can’t understand that I’m only doing what you asked me to do. It’s not happening.”_ _

__Frustrated, Harry scowls at him. “You’re a dumb alpha arse too,” he grumbles._ _

__Liam beams at him and pinches his cheek. “Aww, poor little grumpy baby has come out to play,” he coos. “Whine all you want, little baby, I’m still not doing it.”_ _

__With that, he walks away, leaving Louis staring at Harry with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he waits._ _

__Fuck. Harry takes a deep breath before he goes over there to tell him that the training is canceled for the day and that they’ll pick it up tomorrow, except before even a single word can leave Harry’s mouth Louis punches him in the face._ _

__Harry reels back, eyes wide and cheek throbbing. It was a pretty good punch, solid power behind it if inexperienced, and he didn’t see it coming. “What the hell was that?” he cries, voice an octave higher than it normally is. It’s a little embarrassing, that, but it’s not as though Harry can do anything about it now. It’s already come out of his mouth._ _

__“You said that I need to learn hand-to-hand,” Louis says, arms still up, defensive. “And clearly Liam isn’t going to teach me, so.” He takes a step back, light on his feet, and Harry is already cataloging the ways he could have Louis underneath him on the deck of the ship in less that five seconds._ _

__“I’m not going to teach you either,” Harry says, standing his ground._ _

__Louis’ smile is sharp around the corners. “Yes you are,” he says, bare feet gliding smoothly along the wood under them as he comes a step closer, practically circling. “Because I’m going to keep hitting you until you do.”_ _

__He strikes out again, fist moving fast. This time Harry is ready for him, though, grabs him by the wrist and spins him around, caging him against Harry’s chest with an arm tight across his neck. “Stop,” Harry tells him firmly. “No one’s teaching you how to fight today.”_ _

__This close, it’s all but impossible to ignore the sweet, intoxicating scent of Louis’ skin, his hair. No one aboard a pirate ship should smell this good, yet somehow Louis manages it._ _

__Harry tries not to inhale too deeply. He needs at least a little peace of mind._ _

__“Really?” Louis asks, soft and sweet. He’s not straining in Harry’s hold, seems to have accepted it, even. Harry narrows his eyes, clutches Louis closer. This is not trustworthy behaviour, not coming from Louis. From another omega, maybe, but not Louis. “Do you remember what you told me the first time you had me up on this deck like this?”_ _

__Harry’s brain goes blank. All he can think about are those two words, _had me_. Had me. Hadmehadmehadmehadme - _ _

__It distracts him. It distracts him so much that Louis gets the jump on him, slamming his bare heel down against Harry’s toes sharply. The pain isn’t even that bad, more surprising than anything, but it still has Harry’s grip loosening around Louis’ neck, giving him enough space to wiggle free. And slam his palm against Harry’s jaw hard enough to leave a bruise before he darts away._ _

__A surge of anger runs through Harry’s entire body. He brings a hand up to touch the spot Louis had hit him, unable to tear his eyes away from Louis. It’s not even anger so much as frustration, really. The fuck or fight urge is warring within him in a way he’s never experienced with an omega._ _

__“Use every advantage you have,” Louis says, reminding him. “Doesn’t matter what it is. Looks, size, a connection. Use it.”_ _

__It’s a _challenge_. It’s a challenge, and God knows Harry has never been able to back down from a challenge._ _

__“Center yourself,” he says abruptly, rolling his shoulders. The alpha in him probably won’t let him use his full strength, not with Louis, but he’s confident that he can take him. Harry has years of experience on his side, after all._ _

__Louis adjusts his stance without questioning it. Harry examines him carefully, looking for any sign of weakness in the way he’s balancing himself. “Good,” he says. “Your center of balance is in your core, here,” Harry demonstrates across his own body, his stomach and hips. “Mine is higher, here,” along his torso and shoulders. “You’re going to want to remember that. It means the way I fight is going to be different from the moves that will work the best for you, and you can use that to your advantage. Most people aren’t going to expect you to be able to take care of yourself, and you can surprise them when you can.”_ _

__“How?” Louis asks. He hasn’t moved from his position, still holding himself the way Harry said was right._ _

__Harry swallows. It does something to him, Louis doing what he says. Something unexplainable._ _

__“People always think the key to winning a fight is being stronger than the other person,” Harry says. “It isn’t. You’re fast and you’re small and you’re probably never going to be stronger than the person you’re fighting. There’s no way of telling how much stamina they’re going to have, so you want to end it as fast as you can. Take me, for example. My strength is concentrated in my upper body, my shoulders, so you’re never going to want to go for that. You want to hurt me as fast and hard as you can and then escape while I’m wounded.”_ _

__At that, Louis’ eyes narrow. “And supposing I want to _win_ the fight, not just escape from it?”_ _

__Harry huffs out a laugh. Of course Louis wants to win the fight. “That comes later,” he says. “You have to learn how to escape from a fight unharmed before you learn how to win one.”_ _

__“Fine,” Louis says. He doesn’t sound happy but he’s agreeing. A reluctant smile overtakes Harry’s face. This omega, honestly._ _

__“So try, then,” Harry says, gesturing. “Remember what I told you.”_ _

__The only way to respond to a challenge is to win the challenge, after all._ _

__To his credit, Louis doesn’t immediately charge. He sizes Harry up first, gaze hot and thoughtful as he rakes over every inch of his body, and then, instead of taking a step forward, he strips his shirt off over his head._ _

__Harry’s breath catches in his throat. Talk about fighting _dirty_._ _

__“Every advantage,” Louis reminds him breathlessly, finally stepping forward, arms up to fight. Belatedly, Harry mirrors his movement, but no matter what, he’s not going to be the one who makes the first move. He’s never going to be the one who makes the first move._ _

__Luckily, Louis does. Instead of throwing a punch, he kicks out at Harry’s knee, making contact. It doesn’t hurt, but it does buckle Harry’s knee from underneath him, bringing him into the perfect position to receive a punch in the ribs._ _

__That one hurts. “Good,” Harry wheezes, and it is, it is good, Louis surprising him like this, but Harry’s had enough surprises for today. He’s had enough of being hit by a tiny little omega Harry knows he can take._ _

__It’s not good enough. Not yet._ _

__Harry grabs him by the nape of the neck, the only place he can get a hold of with Louis’ skin slick with sweat, slippery. It costs Harry a knee to the groin and an elbow to the gut, but he manages to wrestle Louis into submission, pinning his arms to his own chest, forcing him down against the floor with Harry’s weight over him._ _

__“Yield,” Harry says firmly, pressing Louis down harder when he only hisses and thrashes. “It was a good attempt, but you lost. Yield.”_ _

__Abruptly, Louis stills underneath him. He’s soft and warm in all the places it matters, neck bowed. Submissive._ _

__“You don’t like to be proven wrong, Captain Styles, do you,” Louis murmurs. His wrists are fragile in Harry’s grip, slender. Fits underneath Harry so nicely, prettily. Perfectly._ _

__“I’d have to _be_ wrong in order to be proven wrong,” Harry murmurs back. Thinks he could stay here like this forever, Louis underneath him, compact and lithe. Smelling like this._ _

__Louis’ back arches, pushing his arse up into the cradle of Harry’s hips. Harry’s breath stutters right out of him, mist of arousal settling into his bones. Wants to sink his teeth into the nape of Louis’ neck, bite down. Mark him._ _

__Before he can think the better of it, Harry’s answering Louis’ movement with a rock of his own hips, pressing him down even more. Has to muffle his noise against the back of Louis’ head. It feels so good, cock hardening in his trousers, pressing against the swell of Louis’ arse. The soft, biteable swell of Louis’ arse._ _

__Christ, Harry needs to _stop_. He manages to stop the slow, gentle rock of his hips but he can’t quite manage to pull away, still lost in the feeling, the sensation._ _

__Then there’s a blinding pain in his head and he’s reeling back, falling over onto his arse and gasping. He’s pretty sure Louis just _headbutted_ him. There’s no time to react, or even really counter the pain, before Louis is scrambling away, bare chest heaving as he retreats._ _

__He ends up on his own arse halfway across the deck, arms looped around his knees, staring at Harry with wide, blown eyes. “Call it a draw?” he asks eventually, slight shake in his voice._ _

__Harry groans, falling onto his back dramatically and covering his eyes with his arm. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. They both know that it was less of a draw and more of a win for Louis._ _

__

__

__The island is abandoned, just as Louis said it would be, trees and vegetation looming all around them. It’ll take a few hours to find the treasure Louis has promised is hidden here, which Harry suspects is the point. Louis has been whining about wanting to lie on a beach for days now._ _

__Most of the crew is on the island, enjoying the warm breeze and the chance to try out their land legs for the first time in over a fortnight. The sound of talking, singing and laughing floats through the warm air._ _

__It’s still too quiet. Harry scans the beach with a slight frown, examining familiar faces but not finding the one he’s looking for._ _

__“Liam,” he calls. Liam barely even turns to look at him, shirtless and sweaty from gathering wood to be taken back to the ship with them._ _

__“He’s down the beach,” Liam calls back, still bent over and not even looking in Harry’s direction._ _

__Harry’s strides are quick and even, kicking up sand as he goes. It takes a few minutes to find Louis, and then once he does all of his breath gets knocked out of him all at once._ _

__Louis is lying face down on the ground, thin blanket spread out underneath him, and he’s naked._ _

__Completely naked._ _

__He’s also asleep, arms folded up underneath his head, guard down and defenseless. Harry’s gut clenches._ _

__“Princeling,” he says sharply, loudly. Louis barely stirs. Harry shifts a few steps closer. “Louis.”_ _

__Louis’ eyes flutter open. Harry crouches down beside him and grips him by the back of the neck, only barely resisting the urge to shake him. What was he thinking. _What was he thinking_._ _

__“You’re naked,” Harry tells him. “What if someone found you like this, huh? Anything could have happened to you.”_ _

__“No,” Louis says, sleep rough and sweet all at once, wanting. “You think I don’t know that you wouldn’t let that happen? We both know that if someone’s gonna take me it’s going to be you.”_ _

__Jesus. Harry grits his teeth and stands up. “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen.”_ _

__Louis rolls over, putting every inch of himself on display, drawing a knee up and planting his foot in the sane, only the tiniest hint of a blush underneath his tan. “Okay,” he says, sliding one hand down his chest, over his belly, to circle his cock, plumping up easily._ _

__Harry can’t tear his eyes away. “Stop.”_ _

__“Why?” Louis asks, giving himself a slow, solid stroke, head of his cock peeking out of his fist. “If you’re not planning on doing anything to me. If you’re not my alpha. Don’t have to listen to you.”_ _

__Logically, he’s not wrong. Logically, Harry should be able to turn around and walk away, leave him to his own devices, consequences be damned._ _

__Harry hasn’t made his living on logic. He crashes back down onto his knees and grips Louis by the throat again, pressing him back down into the sand as Louis tries to rear up, and kisses him messily, angrily._ _

___Stay down_ , he’s trying to say. _Stay down, stay still. Just let me_._ _

__Louis opens up for it beautifully, uncaring that Harry’s teeth prick him, drawing a bit of blood, hands gripping Harry’s shoulders and trying to pull him all the way down, over Louis’ naked body._ _

__“Stop,” Harry says again, hissing it into Louis’ mouth even as Louis wraps a leg around his back, still trying to pull him down, hands slipping down underneath the neck of Harry’s shirt and fingers scratching welts into his back._ _

__Louis will listen, even if Harry has to make him. He kisses a little harder, pressing his tongue past the seam of Louis’ lips and fucking it into his mouth, tasting every sweet hint of island fruit, plundering and taking every inch because every inch is his, every inch belongs to Harry more than it’ll ever belong to anyone else._ _

__His hands are on automatic, skimming over the planes of Louis’ skin, never dipping below his belly button, sure and quick. Louis squirms underneath him, legs spread so invitingly. It would take next to nothing to sink down between those thighs, hold him still, rough him up. Make him smell like he should - like sweat and sun and sex, Harry’s come. Use him the way he wants to be used._ _

__Tearing his mouth away is hard. Keeping it away is even harder, next to impossible. Harry busies himself with sucking a mark into the skin of Louis’ throat, high above where his collar will lie, in a place where everyone will be able to see it, to know he’s taken. A place where everyone will know that laying a hand on Louis’ body means dealing with Harry’s wrath._ _

__That’s all it takes for Louis to go pliant underneath him, limbs lax and fingers loose on Harry’s back, moving mindlessly. He’s still arching up a little, trying to bring their hips into contact, cock hard and needy._ _

__Harry’s mouth is wet with the desire to give him what he wants._ _

__“Needy little omega princeling,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers over the mark he’s made soothingly, fascinated with the way it’s already changing colours. What he wouldn’t give to deepen that mark every day, ensure it never fades. “I’m not going to fuck you.”_ _

__“Please,” Louis says, nearly a whimper as he pushes his hips up again, chasing friction. “ _Please_.”_ _

__He begs so prettily. Harry has no doubt that it would be even prettier if he were to get him on his knot._ _

__That would be sure death, though. There’s no way a pirate would survive after having bedded the King of England’s precious omega son._ _

__“No,” Harry tells him, unable to resist kissing that soft, lush mouth again, still rubbing almost obsessively at his mark. “If you were not of noble blood I would have you in my bed every night, but you are and there’s nothing we can do to change that. Now put your clothes back on.”_ _

__Pushing himself up to his feet is even harder this time. Louis throws something soft and supple at the back of his head as he walks away._ _

__

__Water crashes against Harry’s back, strong and cool. The smell of salt hangs in the air, rays of sun beating down over his head. It’s everything Harry has always loved about the ocean, the strength and ferocity of it, and he can’t concentrate on it._ _

__No, right now he’s concentrating on the feeling of Louis pressed up against his front, on the taste of his mouth as he opens up for Harry’s tongue, on the wet drag of their clothes somehow pulling them even closer together._ _

__“You’re going to make us drown,” Harry gasps into Louis’ mouth, clutching onto the rock supporting them harder. They’re not even that deep, shore close enough to see in detail, but the waves are strong, boxing them in. Harry’s already almost drowning in the perfection of Louis’ mouth, overwhelmed and needy just from some kissing._ _

__“It’s a good thing you can swim, then, innit,” Louis murmurs back, fingernails digging into Harry’s wet back as he attempts to hoist himself higher, wrapping a leg around Harry’s back and grinding into him._ _

__Harry can’t help but kiss him again, for his insolence and a million other things he can’t be bothered to name right now, mouths moving slickly together, tongues electric and sliding. Saliva pools in Harry’s mouth, that impossible strawberry sweet scent just barely hanging in the air, overpowered by the smell of the sea. But he can still smell it, still knows it’s there, the perfume of Louis’ arousal, and it makes his own cock thicken, harden._ _

__Louis’ grinding gets more centralized, zeroing in on the exact parts of Harry that are responding the most, until his short little thrusts are them just rubbing together. Harry kisses him, kisses him, _kisses him_ , eyes closed and sun beating down on his head. It’s still a bad idea, kissing a royal prince, but it’s so worth it. Beyond worth it._ _

__“You can swim too,” Harry manages eventually, voice much more gravelly than it usually is. “Maybe you’ll be the one saving me.”_ _

__Louis’ answering kiss is less frantic. Smoother and slower, more tender. Harry’s mouth is going a little numb and his fingers are undoubtedly pruny from how long they’ve been in here. “Maybe I’ll just let you drown.”_ _

__Probably that shouldn’t make Harry smile. It does. “Maybe you’ll have to find another alpha to knot you, then.”_ _

__“Now you’re making it sound as though you have nefarious intentions with my body,” Louis says, stroking one hand down Harry’s back slowly, water sodden material clumping beneath his fingers. “Are you intending to steal my virginity, Captain Styles?”_ _

__There’s nothing Harry would like more than to steal Louis’ virginity. He’s man enough to admit that, if only to himself. There’s a lot of reasons that will never happen, none more important than the fact that Louis is a royal omega prince._ _

__Harry will not be the man who steals the virginity of a royal omega prince. It’s bad enough being the man who kisses that royal omega prince’s mouth into a swollen mess on a basis that could be considered regular._ _

__“I think we both know I’m not going to do that,” Harry answers, still caging Louis against the rock. The arousal in his veins has slowed to a simmer. In a minute he’ll be able to uncurl his fingers from the smooth boulder and let Louis out, allow him to swim back to shore with his virginity intact, mostly untouched._ _

__Mostly. Harry’s not a saint, after all._ _

__For now he’s content to keep them pressed together, close but not too close. The water is still cold on Harry’s skin, weighing his clothes down. It’s very effective in making the throbbing in Harry’s cock ebb._ _

__“Let me tell you a secret,” Louis says softly, arms still wrapped around Harry’s back._ _

__Harry has a feeling he knows what that secret is going to be. He’s in the mood to indulge Louis anyway. “Okay.”_ _

__“The only person who actually believes that you aren’t going to take me soon or later is you,” Louis tells him, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip slowly. “And I don’t think you really believe it either.”_ _

__Harry kisses him again. It’s the only way he can think of to avoid answering._ _

__

__It’s been quite a day. Everything that could have gone wrong has, and Harry has spent the past twelve hours barking orders at his crew and trying to prevent the ship from sinking. The only thing that didn’t happen is a raid from another ship. Harry doesn’t even feel lucky it didn’t at this point - at least it would have given him a chance to work out some of his anger with a sword fight._ _

__His back is aching, shoulders tense. He feels about ready to seriously snap on someone, say something he will definitely regret after he’s gotten a few hours of sleep, so before that can happen he heads towards his cabin, intending to crash face first onto his pile of blankets and sleep until the sun is hovering high in the sky._ _

__That doesn’t happen._ _

__Louis intercepts him before Harry’s even laid a single hand on the door, clad in a loose shirt and a pair of trousers that are threatening to slip off his narrow waist. “Come with me,” he says, grabbing Harry by the hand and tugging at him until Harry falls into step behind him._ _

__The only reason Harry does it is because it gives him a chance to ogle Louis’ arse. And Harry definitely needs some arse ogling time after the day he’s had. So he follows, fingers tangled absently with Louis, until they reach a suspiciously quiet section of the ship, nary a soul to be seen._ _

__What did Louis bribe the crew with, is what Harry wants to know. It’ll definitely come in handy the next time Harry needs a minute to himself._ _

__“What are we doing here?” Harry asks, withdrawing his hand and tucking it into his pocket. It feels cold and empty without Louis’ fingers laced between his. “It’s been a long day, little prince, and I want to go to sleep.”_ _

__“Dance with me,” Louis demands, holding his arms out expectantly._ _

__Harry looks at him. He wants to say no. He wants to say no and go to sleep, lie unconscious in his bed for several hours straight, except._ _

__Except he’s becoming less and less adept at saying no to Louis. And he was never really that good at it in the first place. “Five minutes,” he says. “That’s it, five minutes.”_ _

__Louis all but beams, smiling wide and sincere. He holds out his arms for Harry to step into, and once Harry does most of the stress of the day melts away. There’s still no music, still no beat to dance to, and their swaying changes tempo a few times before settling into something slow and drifty. He smells clean, Louis, hair freshly washed and fragrant. Must have stolen soap from somewhere again._ _

__“You had a shit day, huh?” Louis asks after a few minutes, head resting against Harry’s chest. Any space between them when they had started has disappeared now, dance almost more intimate than anything else they’ve ever done. Including the rather obscene amounts of snogging._ _

__Harry sighs into Louis’ hair, hugging him a bit tighter. No matter how many times Louis tries to teach Harry where his hands should be they always end up drifting, landing in places no respectable alpha would touch a royal omega they’re courting._ _

__Not that Harry is courting Louis._ _

__“Terrible,” Harry says, pinching the side of Louis’ hip lightly. “And you shouldn’t be swearing, my liege.”_ _

__“I’ll bloody well swear whenever I please,” Louis returns placidly, pinching Harry back. Steps on his toes a little, which Harry knows is on purpose. Louis is an excellent dancer, years of instruction behind him. He doesn’t make mistakes like that. “And it wasn’t really that bad, was it? A few things went wrong but it was nothing major. Nothing the crew couldn’t handle.”_ _

__He’s not wrong. Plenty of days aboard _The Wandering Sparrow_ have been a lot worse. “Aye,” Harry says slowly, tiredly. The exhaustion of the day is catching up to him all of a sudden._ _

__“So what, then?” Louis asks, fit into Harry’s arms so perfectly. Willing to be still for once, let Harry take the lead. “It’s not like you to lose your temper over the small things.”_ _

__Unbidden, Harry says, “This day is usually tough for me.”_ _

__It’s true. Today is the anniversary of the death of Harry’s family, and it’s been over a decade, now, but the pain still hits him sometimes, sometimes out of the blue but definitely for a reason on days like today, days that Harry would rather not have to re-live in his memories. For the most part he’s come to terms with the pain, the loss, the grief, but it’ll never fully fade. Especially not on the anniversary of their deaths._ _

__“Why?” Louis asks, tilting his head so he’s looking up at Harry’s face._ _

__Harry doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. It’s not the first time Louis has asked about Harry’s family, and he might not know that’s what he’s asking about right now, but he is and Harry can’t talk about it, not with Louis. Not with someone who’s going to leave._ _

__“The pirates who took me,” Louis starts calmly, deliberately. Harry’s back stiffens, completely unintentionally. “They weren’t subtle about what they were planning to do with me. I don’t know how long I spent tied up below deck on that ship, but the entire time they had me I was terrified that one of them was going to violate me before they had a chance to sell me.”_ _

__Unconsciously, Harry draws Louis in closer, squeezing him. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he says. Wishes he could go back to that day and kill every single person aboard that ship - taking everything even remotely valuable was not a strong enough punishment. Not that they knew what was going on when they happened upon the ship. If they hadn’t been in need of supplies and recognized the unsavory flag they probably wouldn’t have even attempted the raid._ _

__Harry’s grudge against the crew of _The Tide_ is long standing._ _

__“Thank you,” Louis says, quieter. “It took me a while to trust that your crew wasn’t going to do the same, and the thought of being back on that ship still makes me feel sick, but I’m glad you rescued me. I’m glad it was you.”_ _

__Harry wets his lips. “Do you now? Trust me?”_ _

__It’s likely a stupid question. Even if Louis does trust him there’s no real reason Harry should have even asked it in the first place - Louis doesn’t owe him anything, much less his trust._ _

__Instead of pointing that out, Louis pulls away, almost entirely out of Harry’s grip. “Aye,” he says, still soft. “With my life.” Lightning quick, he rocks up onto his toes and presses a delicate kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth._ _

__Then he pulls out of Harry’s arms all the way and makes his way back down to the main deck._ _

__Harry watches his arse as he goes._ _

__

__

__“Don’t you _get it_?” Harry explodes, spreading his arms out. “Even if there wasn’t a million other reasons we _physically can’t_.”_ _

__Louis shoves at Harry’s shoulders, not hesitating to get right up in his face. “Stop making excuses!” he shouts back, shoving at Harry’s shoulders again._ _

__Not for the first time, Harry wants to silence him with a hand against his throat. He won’t, because he still has a tiny bit of self-restraint left, but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to._ _

__“I’m not!” Harry shouts, louder. He grabs Louis’ wrists and pins them together before Louis can shove him again, ignoring the mutinous look on Louis’ face. “Christ, Louis, we _can’t_. Not without risking something I’m not ready to risk.”_ _

__Just like that, Louis stills. If Harry had have known it was this easy he might have tried it weeks ago._ _

__“What do you mean?” Louis asks, standing still, letting Harry hold his wrists. Nearly submissive._ _

__He’s exactly the type of omega who would make Harry work for their submission, and Harry has a history of liking that. It’s probably the reason they’re so attracted to each other._ _

__One of the reasons, at least._ _

__“Do you want a baby?” Harry asks, cutting to the chase. Clarifies, “Right now. Do you want a baby right now.”_ _

__Louis blinks. Just like that, he gets it. “A baby,” he repeats faintly._ _

__Harry watches him process the idea. He doesn’t look as repulsed by it as Harry expected him to be. More like _intrigued_. Which. Is not something Harry saw coming._ _

__“No,” Louis says eventually. Harry sags in relief. “I don’t want a baby right now.”_ _

__There’s a strange emphasis on _right now_ that sounds like he’s thinking about what it would be like to eventually have a baby. Possibly even thinking about what it would be like to eventually have a baby with _Harry_ , if the way he’s looking at him is any indication._ _

__“Okay,” Harry says loudly, startling them both. “I’m going to go do - something. Yeah. Something.” He spins on his heel and walks away, leaving the door open in his haste to escape._ _

__Alright. So maybe that didn’t go the way he planned. But it got the point across. It definitely got the point across._ _

__Right?_ _

__

__The second they arrive in Nassau, Louis is standing on the deck, practically vibrating as he waits for them to anchor the ship. Harry is suspicious, but he’s also busy. There’s really nothing he can do._ _

__There’s especially nothing he can do as he watches Louis dart off the ship as soon as they’re docked, disappearing into the throng of people milling about. Nothing except frown in his general direction._ _

__He wants to follow. He really wants to follow, but the last time he did that Louis nearly bit his head off and didn’t initiate any kissing for almost three days. That should be a good thing, because the kissing absolutely has to stop, but._ _

__God, how Harry had missed Louis’ mouth in those three days._ _

__Niall nudges their shoulders together. “He can take care of himself,” he says, giving Harry a handful of coins._ _

__Harry breathes out slowly, closing his fist around the coins. “I know. I just don’t like not knowing what he’s doing.”_ _

__“That’s because you want to be his alpha,” Niall says easily, already wandering away._ _

__Harry frowns at his back. He’s filled with the desire to wander out into the crowd himself, try to catch Louis’ scent, follow him, find out what he’s doing._ _

__That would be weird, though. Way too weird. Plus he isn’t actually Louis’ alpha, no matter what his instincts are trying to tell him. So he has no other choice than to just let Louis go._ _

__

__Harry forces it out of his mind the entire time he’s ashore. He doesn’t mind having his feet on solid ground, even likes it every so often, but he’s always been more comfortable with the lull of the sea underneath him, rocking him to sleep._ _

__That’s why he makes his way back to the ship after only a few hours instead of staying on the mainland. That’s the only reason. No other reason at all. None._ _

__Louis doesn’t come strolling back onto the ship until near midnight. Harry can smell him long before he can see him, light sheen of sweat covering his skin. It doesn’t deduct from the allure of his scent at all._ _

__Harry’s lying spread out in the middle of the deck, staring up at the stars. The night is calm, quiet. Most of the crew has gone into the city, choosing to remain there overnight. It’s more peaceful on the ship than it normally is and Harry’s relishing it._ _

__Louis comes to a slow halt beside Harry’s still body. From this angle pretty much all Harry can see of him is his legs, covered by a pair of too large trousers and dirty, worn boots that used to belong to Niall._ _

__More than anything, Harry wants to ask Louis what he was doing. Harry really wants to ask, but he won’t. Because he has self-restraint and it’s none of his business._ _

__“What were you doing?”_ _

__Alright, so maybe his self-restraint isn’t as good as Harry thought it was. That doesn’t matter right now. What matters right now is what Louis was doing. For some reason, it feels very important that he knows what Louis was doing in the city._ _

__“I was shopping,” Louis says, settling on the floor beside Harry’s hips and propping himself up on an elbow._ _

__“For what?” Harry asks, unable to stop himself from tucking two fingers in the crook of Louis’ elbow, keeping them there. He does manage to keep himself from tugging, pulling Louis down all the way on top of him._ _

__A jar settles in the middle of Harry’s chest. He take his fingers away from Louis’ arm as he fumbles to open it, holding it close enough to his face to smell._ _

__“Now you can stop making excuses,” Louis says, snatching the jar out of his grip and slamming the door behind him as he enters the cabin, leaving Harry blinking after him, open-mouthed and stupid. Because he recognizes that smell, the earthy herbs in that jar._ _

__The smell of birth control._ _

__

__Louis makes a show of taking it for the next three days. Harry very pointedly doesn’t comment on it. He’s not sure what he would say, anyway._ _

__

__Liam passes by, takes one look at Harry, sitting on the floor with his back to the railing, and stops. Opens his mouth to start talking._ _

__“Don’t,” Harry says pre-emptively._ _

__“Mate, if you’re not careful he’s going to _destroy_ you,” Liam says admiringly. “We’re practically watching him wrap you around his finger more and more every day.”_ _

__Harry knows. Every time he tries to deny it, even in his own head, all he hears is a scoffing sound, loud and disbelieving. No matter what he does it doesn’t seem like he can stop it, either. Louis wrapping him around his finger, that is. Harry is powerless to resist._ _

__He doesn’t want it to stop, which is part of the problem. What he wants he can’t have - he wants Louis spread out underneath him, kissing Harry back, letting him knot him over and over again, as many times as physically possible before they pass out together._ _

__“I said don’t,” Harry says, tipping his head back to gaze up at the sky, full of stars, all shining brightly. It’s a beautiful sight, one that’s almost unparalled even with everything Harry has seen._ _

__He still wants to go inside his cabin and feast his eyes upon Louis instead. It’s becoming a problem._ _

__Liam laughs, sitting down beside Harry and setting a bottle of rum on the floor in front of him. “You look as though you need to drink your sorrows away.”_ _

__What Harry needs is a minute to breathe Louis-free air, air that doesn’t smell infuriatingly like strawberries. Short of jumping into the ocean and letting himself be enveloped by the water that isn’t an option, and he’s already done too much of that lately. So he’ll have to settle for the rum._ _

__They drink in companionable silence, passing the bottle back and forth. It’s not until they’re halfway through that Harry says, “I think I might not be able to make it to England without giving in.”_ _

__Liam’s laugh is more incredulous this time. “Mate, we haven’t been heading towards England in weeks. If that’s what you’re holding out for you might as well give up now.”_ _

__Harry groans and lets his head tip back against the railing again, banging a little. “I can’t,” he says mournfully. “I want to, but I can’t.”_ _

__“Give in or hold out?” Liam asks, stealing the bottle back and draining the last few gulps. Harry pouts but doesn’t comment on it._ _

__“Both. Neither. I don’t know. Tell me what to do, Liam.”_ _

__Liam’s shoulder is warm where it’s pressing up against Harry’s. He shrugs, the movement jostling Harry’s arm a bit. “I think you either give in or you take him back to England right now. Far as I can tell those are your only two options, mate. Doesn’t seem like he’s going to give up on you.”_ _

___Give up on you_. For some reason, Harry’s chest hurts at the thought._ _

__“I think I need more rum,” Harry grumbles. He can’t do this type of thinking on an empty rum-stomach._ _

__

__

__For some reason, Harry completely forgets it’s coming. Nearly eight years and he completely forgets it’s coming._ _

__Right up until he sees Liam heading out with the rest of the alphas in the crew and realizes that the reason he’s been so irritable all day is because his rut has been sneaking up on him._ _

__“You coming?” Liam asks, stopping in his tracks and leveling Harry with a raised, expectant eyebrow._ _

__Harry’s gaze swings unwittingly to the door of his cabin. He almost doesn’t realize where he’s looking._ _

__Not until Liam slaps him, that is._ _

__“Stop that,” Liam says firmly. “You’re not going to - ”_ _

__He cuts himself off abruptly as Louis emerges from the cabin, one of Harry’s shirts half buttoned and hanging off of one shoulder, sleepy soft and quiet. Harry has to bite back a whimper._ _

__Louis glances around, taking note of the crew filtering off the ship, and demands to know, “Where are you all going?”_ _

__His scent is sharp, infiltrating all of Harry’s senses, molten and hot. Harry wants him. Harry wants to fuck him, split him open, make him shiver and shudder and shake. Bite him._ _

__“Into the city,” Liam says shortly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. He’s barely even looking at Louis, nowhere near as affected by him as Harry is. He’s just impatient because he wants to go._ _

__Harry. Harry wants to stay._ _

__“Why?” Louis asks suspiciously, glancing between the two of them with his brows furrowed, trying to figure it out._ _

__“Go ahead, Li,” Harry says, caught up in the way the sun kisses Louis’ skin, the slight hint of sweat above his brows, the plushness of his mouth._ _

__Liam snorts. “Not a chance in hell,” he mutters, grabbing Harry’s elbow. “I’m not gonna leave you here alone with him, mate.”_ _

__Louis is still looking between the two of them, but there’s understanding blossoming across his face now. “You can go, Liam,” he says, dismissive as always, focusing on Harry._ _

__There’s electricity singing in the air between them, charged and thick. He knows. Harry knows he knows._ _

__Can’t help but wonder if he really knows what he’s attempting to sign himself up for. Harry’s not a particular gentle lover during his ruts - he doesn’t have to be, not when he’s paying for most of his companions - and it would be Louis’ first time._ _

___His first time_. Harry’s mouth floods with saliva at the thought of it, at the thought of getting to be the first one, the _only_ one._ _

__“You’re fucked if you think I’m leaving you alone with him,” Liam says, and for the first time Harry realizes that he’s not talking to him._ _

__Louis smiles, sweet and sharp at the same time, and drifts a few steps closer, feet bare and quiet against the wood of the deck._ _

__“It’s okay, Liam,” Harry says, trying to put a stop to whatever kind of confrontation this is leading up to, but he’s distracted by the way Louis’ shoulders move underneath the shirt, by the display of his collarbones, practically begging to be sucked, kissed. His feet are moving before he realizes it, inching closer to Louis, until they’re standing only a few inches apart._ _

__“So, what, you’re going to seduce him while he’s already weak and easily influenced?” Liam demands. He’s trying to protect Harry, and while Harry appreciates that he absolutely hates the look that covers Louis’ face because of it._ _

__Louis flinches, takes a step back. Doesn’t try to defend himself, but his face is breaking apart, more distraught than he should be at a time like this. “No.”_ _

__“It’s okay,” Harry repeats, close enough to touch now. He cups Louis’ face in between his hands and kisses him, tilting his chin up for it. Louis’ hands come up to clutch at his biceps but he doesn’t kiss back, doesn’t allow his lips to part._ _

__Harry pulls back, confused. There’s a hint of wetness in Louis’ eyes, even as he tries to blink it away. “Please don’t,” he whispers._ _

__“Don’t what?” Harry murmurs, brushing at the dampness on Louis’ cheeks, trying to rub it away. Tries to kiss him again._ _

__Louis holds him back. “Just don’t go out there and fuck someone else,” he pleads._ _

__Distantly, Harry remembers that Louis has no right to be asking this of him, asking him to spend his rut alone, with only his own hand to get him through it, that they’re not promised to each other, betrothed, courting. That they don’t have expectations of each other because they’re not in a relationship and never have been._ _

__Louis wouldn’t be the only one with a broken heart if Harry did find someone to spend his rut with, even if it’s only someone he pays for sex._ _

__“I won’t,” he promises, kissing Louis again. Louis lets him this time, mouth opening up under Harry’s so sweetly, taste of him electric and almost stinging._ _

__Liam’s throat clearing becomes almost impossible to ignore, even through the haze of sweet smoke Harry feels like he’s inhaling. He breaks away reluctantly, but not before biting at the corner of Louis’ bottom lip, just enough to give him something to remember for the next few days, while Harry is gone._ _

__“Okay,” Louis says. His voice is a lovely mix of rough and thin, enough that he has to clear his throat before he can continue. “Make sure you think about me.”_ _

__Harry’s already thinking about him and he hasn’t even left the ship yet._ _

__

__The only thoughts in his head as he follows Liam and the other alphas off the ship are of Louis. Louis with his soft skin and blue eyes, sometimes the colour of the ocean and others the colour of the sky. Louis’ pretty little body, compact and lithe, neck begging for Harry’s teeth to be set in it, nipples begging to be sucked. Belly asking for kisses, slick seeping out of him, welcoming. Wanting. Wanting Harry._ _

__He’s _dazed_. That’s really the only word to describe what he’s feeling right now. Dazed._ _

__The place they end up isn’t one Harry’s been to before. It’s a standard brothel, rooms and staff available by the hour, and their raggedy crew filters inside slowly, one after the other._ _

__Harry doesn’t._ _

__The sign hanging on the outside of the building is barely legible, obscured by a tree branch. Harry stands below it, considering. Someone should tell the owners of this fine establishment that it needs to be fixed. They must be losing business._ _

__Liam’s the last person standing outside with Harry. His voice breaks the silence. “You know that if you stay out here by yourself you’re just going to want to go back to him.”_ _

__The _e_ on the sign could use some re-carving. “I know.”_ _

__“But you’re still not going to come inside and ride out your rut,” Liam says. It’s not really a question._ _

__“How can I?” Harry asks helplessly, barely meeting Liam’s gaze. “You heard him when he asked me not to. I can’t do that to him.”_ _

__“He’s going to get you killed, that’s what’s going to happen,” Liam mutters, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting long again - he could do with a cut._ _

__So could Harry, though. He likes his hair on the longer side, don’t get him wrong, but it does get to a point where the ends stop growing and need a trim. Maybe they can sweet talk Niall into giving everyone a haircut once their ruts are over. He’s got the steadiest hands out of all of them._ _

__“At least come in and get a room, even if you’re not going to hire anyone,” Liam says. “You’re exactly the type of noble bastard who doesn’t want to do something you might regret just because you’re in your rut.”_ _

__Harry manages a wan smile. He can always count on Liam to be the voice of reason when he needs it the most._ _

__Sometimes it’s a rather rude voice of reason, but it’s a voice of reason nonetheless._ _

__“Okay,” Harry agrees. There’s nowhere else for him to go, anyway - he can’t go back to the ship, not when his cock is already half hard just from thinking about Louis, and renting a room anywhere else would be the same as renting a room here. He might as well just stay here, where he can be close to his crew, and wait for it to be over._ _

__

__Of course, when they say that the waiting is the hardest part they mean it literally. Ruts don’t last the same amount of time for everyone, and a non-mated alpha will usually have a shorter rut than a mated one, but they’re still usually a couple of days long._ _

__A couple of days where Louis essentially has free run of _The Wandering Sparrow_. Harry only barely makes it into the room, being sure to lock the door behind himself - these places have a reputation for theft - before he has to give in to the temptation of getting himself off, gripping his cock firmly and a little bit too roughly in one hand._ _

__It doesn’t feel anything like how he imagines Louis’ hand gripping him would feel._ _

__He’s not sure whether it’s the thoughts of Louis’ naked body or the thought of him doing as he pleases aboard Harry’s ship, but it doesn’t take long for Harry’s knot to begin swelling in his palm. It wants to be buried inside someone, spilling his seed. An omega, specifically - there’s plenty of alphas out there who don’t feel the need to bury themselves inside an omega during their rut, but right now Harry isn’t one of them._ _

__Louis, specifically. Louis is all Harry can see, pressing his face against the pillow and inhaling shakily as the first wave of come pulses out of him. He wants to be buried in Louis right now, marking him up with his teeth and his come, making him smell like they belong together, like they’ve never been anything _but_ together._ _

__The room is already starting to smell like sweat and come and Harry hasn’t even finished his first orgasm. The pillow doesn’t smell like much, mainly just washing powder, but it helps mask the obvious missing scent, so Harry keeps his face buried in it, eyes closed and thinking about what Louis would look like if Harry spread him out on two fingers and a thumb, what he would _sound_ like._ _

__It’s a hot mental image. He’d probably arch his back and breathe all gaspily, dreamy and beautiful as he let Harry work him open, arse slick and wet for him. Harry’s mouth is wet just thinking about it._ _

__The sheets are getting soaked underneath him, come sticking to his skin and already starting to dry despite the fact that he’s not even half done. It’s not the first time he’s jerked himself off while thinking about Louis, and it’s not a crime. He doesn’t feel guilty._ _

__Mainly he just feels hot and bothered. He wants Louis underneath him, wants Louis’ mouth. Wants to kiss him and enjoy the way he tastes, the way he smells. Strawberries._ _

__“Fuck,” Harry groans into the pillow, squeezing his knot harder. “Baby - ”_ _

__Louis isn’t here, though. Louis is back on the ship and Harry’s not there because Louis has to remain pure. Will remain pure. Harry will not be the first one to touch him like that, no matter how much he wants to._ _

___You kind of already have_ , his brain whispers. _Remember all the times you’ve kissed him. How you’ve held him down, felt him underneath you_._ _

__“ _Yes_ ,” Harry hisses, more come seeping out of him. Everything’s wet now, nowhere to go. No hole to be stuffed up into because Harry is alone and he has to remain alone - _ _

__He would be Louis’ first. First alpha to ever get the opportunity to put their cock in Louis’ bum, stuff him full, make him come. Make him feel so good he’d never want anyone else. Never want to be with anyone else ever._ _

__He kind of blanks out, thinking about it. Doesn’t register time passing, only that he’s coming, still coming, to the thoughts, to the images. To imagining what it would sound like, smell like. _Taste_ like._ _

__By the time he’s finished coming, everything smells like semen. It’s not a particularly good smell, at least not by itself, too musky and thick. It could use something sweeter, lighter, to really make it bearable, balance it out._ _

__Something like strawberries._ _

__

__Harry’s bone tired, exhausted, by the time he makes it back onto the ship. He meets Louis’ eyes for a few long, electric seconds before he continues into his cabin, collapsing face first into the hammock._ _

__They don’t talk about it._ _

__

__

__Harry’s been at the helm for hours already. The sky is overcast, cloudy. There’s no rain, at least not yet, but the waters are choppy, rough. Mist hangs in the air, salt scented and thick. It’s hard to see more than a few yards in front of his face, and, that being the case, Harry’s pretty focused on his duties, as is most of the crew._ _

__That _most_ part becomes clear when a loud, high-pitched yelp splits Harry’s eardrums. He winces, covering his ears for a second before he can move in the direction of the noise, already knowing that he’s going to find Liam in the place the yelp came from._ _

__Liam has some seriously high-pitched noises in his repertoire. Harry doesn’t think he will ever be used to it._ _

__“Li, you okay?” Harry calls, squinting through the mist. He can see a vague outline of Liam’s body._ _

__Liam responds by way of cursing. Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Liam?” he asks again. He’s close enough to see Liam properly now, and what he sees is Liam clutching his hand to his chest and swearing._ _

__“No, I’m not fucking okay,” Liam spits, hopping around on one foot. He looks entirely ridiculous. Harry probably shouldn’t tell him that right now. “Your fucking omega put a fucking _jellyfish_ in my trunk.”_ _

__Harry’s eyebrows raise even higher. “Where did he even get a jellyfish from?” he wonders. The look Liam levels at him is nothing short of detesting. “I mean, that’s terrible. I wonder why he would do that.”_ _

__“Because he’s mad at me for not letting you stay here with him during your rut,” Liam mutters, still hoping around from one foot to the other. “Are you going to help me with this or what?”_ _

__Harry has had the unfortunate pleasure of being stung by a jellyfish before himself. He knows Liam is in for several hours of pain. He goes to grab a bucketful of sea water, pouring it carefully over Liam’s hand, and then holds up a bottle rum. “Best cure there is for a jelly sting,” he says sagely. Liam hisses out a few more cusses, but he grabs the bottle and starts swinging._ _

__Once Liam is sufficiently drunk, Harry sets about removing the jellyfish tentacles from Liam’s skin. It’s not a pleasant experience for either of them._ _

__“Do you think he meant for me to actually get stung?” Liam wonders morosely, watching as Harry continues his work carefully._ _

__Harry huffs out a quiet laugh. It’s probably not a good idea to laugh at Liam’s predicament, but he can’t help himself. “Probably not. Probably just wanted to scare you. Bet if you really milk this he’ll be all apologetic for the next week and even let you have his share of the rum during dinner.”_ _

__Liam brightens. “Really?”_ _

__Harry was only saying that in order to make Liam feel better, but he’s pretty sure that Louis _would_ let Liam have his share of the rum. Louis didn’t intend for Liam to actually get hurt, Harry’s sure of that. It’s just not the type of person Louis is, all posturing aside. As much as he ribs on Liam the two of them are actually quite close. Harry’s not jealous at all._ _

__“Yeah, definitely,” Harry says, tipping the bottle up towards Liam’s mouth with two fingers, almost finished with removing the tentacles. “Now drink up.”_ _

__

__When he finds out that Liam went and stuck his hand in the drawer with the jellyfish in it, Louis is appropriately horrified. He makes a show of kissing Liam’s hand better, rushing to get him food and drink at dinner that day. Harry rolls his eyes, but there’s no denying his unwilling fondness. He knew Louis never meant to actually hurt Liam._ _

__And if Harry is a little jealous of the way Louis treats Liam, well. No one ever has to know, right?_ _

__Right._ _

__

__“Come here,” Harry says, beckoning at Louis with two fingers. Louis pauses with a half folded shirt in his hands, looking at Harry suspiciously._ _

__“What do you want?” Louis asks, not making any move to come closer._ _

__Harry rolls his eyes, trying to pretend it’s not a fond roll. “I have a present for you,” he says, expecting Louis’ eyes to brighten with intrigue._ _

__Louis’ eyes only narrow some more. “What kind of present?” he asks, still suspicious._ _

__Harry’s sigh isn’t as fond. “Just come over here and see.”_ _

__“It better not be something terrible,” Louis warns, padding across the floor in his bare feet. “I’ll have you know that I have a high standard when it comes to presents. I am royalty, after all.”_ _

__He comes to a stop in front of Harry, watching him expectantly. “You’ll like it,” Harry tells him. “Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”_ _

__It takes another minute of suspicious staring, but Louis eventually does as asked. His fingers curl around the object Harry puts in them immediately, slight frown on his face as though he can’t figure out what it is._ _

__“Open.”_ _

__Louis’ eyes practically fly open, peering down at the object intently. Then, a big, brilliant smile overtakes his entire face. “A knife,” he breathes, looking back up at Harry. “You got me a knife?”_ _

__“Please don’t stab me with it,” Harry says. “Even when you’re really mad at me.”_ _

__“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Louis responds, shoving Harry down onto the floor and straddling his lap before Harry can so much as blink, “but if I thought there was even the slightest chance you would let me I would have my mouth on your cock right now.”_ _

__What other way could that possibly be taken, Harry wonders. There’s no chance to ask before Louis is kissing him, tipping himself forward in Harry’s lap and sliding their mouths together. It’s a hot kiss, wet and intense, but it doesn’t last for long._ _

__“Thank you,” Louis says softly, drawing back and rubbing his thumb across Harry’s spit slick lower lip. Arousal tugs low in Harry’s gut. “You can consider my thank you card to be me actually letting you get away with only giving me one kiss.”_ _

__Harry can’t help but laugh, resting his forehead against Louis’. He might end up with this very dagger through a part of his own body at some point, but right now it feels worth it._ _

__

__

__There’s something in the air - something kind of sharp, addictive. It’s been plundering all of Harry’s senses for the past five minutes, worsening with every passing second, drawing all of his attention to it, to trying to determine what it is._ _

__A quick, furtive look around tells him that no one else seems to be as affected by it as Harry is. For a minute, he thinks he must be going crazy - the smell is making his mouth wet, making him resist the urge to flare his nostrils, breathe it in even deeper, but no one seems to be even the slightest bit affected by it other than Harry._ _

__Until Zayn strides right up to him and slams his palm against Harry’s shoulder, that is. “You need to get him under control,” he says tightly. “He’s practically asking for someone to snap and go in there after him, and I don’t want to see that kind of bloodbath on this ship today, Harry. Go fix it.”_ _

__Harry’s lost. He stares at Zayn for a second, long enough that Zayn’s face goes even tighter and he reaches up to physically turn Harry’s head towards his cabin door. “Oh,” Harry says dumbly, half stumbling as he walks towards it, turns the knob and lets himself slip inside._ _

__His breath catches in his throat the second he’s in and he can’t slam the door behind himself quick enough._ _

__“What are you doing,” he croaks, barely even a question._ _

__Louis shifts restlessly, straining to push the candle farther inside. “Gotta make myself feel good somehow, if you won’t,” he says, and maybe he means for it to come out sharp. It sounds soft instead, slurred._ _

__Harry’s knees feel weak as he drifts over to the makeshift bed on the floor, unable to stop himself. “You can’t,” he says, just as dumbfounded as he was five seconds ago._ _

__“I can’t get myself off?” Louis asks, halfway to a snarl. “I can bloody well touch myself whenever I want and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”_ _

__This is the turning point. It’s so fucking obvious that this is the turning point - Harry can’t deny it any more, can’t keep himself from touching Louis how he’s wanted to since the very first second he laid eyes on him, can’t keep repeating the _off limits off limits off limits_ mantra he’s had in his head since day one._ _

__“You can’t fuck yourself with a bloody _candlestick_ ,” Harry blurts out, hands curling into fists at his sides. Now that he’s started looking he can’t tear his eyes away, drinking in his fill of Louis’ body, of every single curve, of every single straight line of him, naked and exposed._ _

__What is Harry even talking about. He’s never been able to lie to himself, and he doesn’t want to look away. Doesn’t want to look away from the flush on Louis’ cheeks that spreads all the way down his neck before settling high in his chest, doesn’t want to look away from the way his nipples are hard and stiff, practically begging for a mouth on them, doesn’t want to look away from his fucking gorgeous cock standing up, erect and wet at the tip._ _

__That’s not even accounting for the way his arse looks, clutching the candlestick in between his cheeks, and the only thing Harry can really see is the soft, languid movement of Louis’ wrist as he fucks it in and out a few more times, sending his cock bouncing against his stomach, from pleasure or the force of his motions Harry doesn’t even know._ _

__“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” Louis disagrees, voice cracking with heat. He sounds like sex and sweat and fire. “You know why? _Because you’re not my alpha_.”_ _

__That thing Harry has been keeping at bay, holding tight inside of himself, snaps right in half. The pieces float away easily, lost in the haze of the fucking _smell_ of Louis, the smell of his slick in the air, his arousal, already mingling with Harry’s even though they haven’t touched, winding them together._ _

__Irrevocably together._ _

__“You’re a virgin,” Harry says sharply, dropping to his knees beside the bed and laying his hand over Louis’ wrist, stilling his movements._ _

__“I _was_ a virgin,” Louis shoots back, just as sharp, thorns in his voice._ _

__Every single instinct Harry has is telling him to lean over and just _bite_ the smartarse out of Louis’ mouth. His breathing is ragged as he replies, “You telling me you went out and got yourself fucked, baby? Because you can put this candlestick up your arse as much as you want and it’s still not going to be even remotely like the real thing.”_ _

__Louis’ fingers loosen around the candle, let go. If Harry wanted he could pull Louis’ hand away entirely, maybe pin it above his head, stretch him out like that fucking candle is stretching him out right at this very second._ _

__It shouldn’t be possible to hate an inanimate object this much._ _

__“What would you say if I said yes?” Louis asks, cutting through all of the tension with one simple question._ _

__Harry has absolutely no right to feel angry, no right for that anger to settle in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He has no claim to Louis. Zero. None whatsoever._ _

__“I would say that you’re lying,” Harry says, curling his fingers around Louis’ wrist and giving in to the temptation to pull it up, away from the candle, lean over him even more with their fingers more or less intertwined above Louis’ head, pinning him there. “Because you are. You’re lying, baby, aren’t you.”_ _

__It’s less of a question than it is a demand._ _

__Louis stares up at him, eyes bright and dark all at once, lips parted. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to escape, and that’s good. That’s so good. “Yes,” is all he says, lips barely moving._ _

__“I know,” Harry says, leaning down even more, planting his other elbow against the floor, leaving him hovering right over Louis’ body, their chests brushing together lightly. “Because you want it to be me, baby, don’t you. You want me to be the one who takes you the very first time, you want to give it up to _me_.”_ _

__Generally speaking, omegas are small and lithe, at least compared to alphas, but small and lithe doesn’t mean weak. It would be a mistake to think of omegas as weak._ _

__It would especially be a mistake to think of _Louis_ as weak. He proves it now by wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips and rolling them over, landing easily on top. Their hands are still twined together, but they’re above Harry’s head now._ _

__“You want it too,” Louis says vehemently, rocking just the tiniest bit. “The thought of another alpha putting their dick inside of me makes you fucking _crazy_ , Harry.”_ _

__Harry gazes up at him, at the way his hair has already started sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat, to the pink tint on his cheeks, to the determination shining from his every pore. He wants it, wants this, and he’s been making that clear for weeks now._ _

__And Harry wants this, wants him. Doesn’t want to fight it anymore, the pull that’s been between them since the very first second, the fucking _attraction_._ _

__He surges up, crushing Louis to his chest and kisses him much the same way, taste of him so familiar from all the snogging they’ve done. Louis opens up for it right away, hands pulling at Harry’s hair like he’s trying to take control of the kiss. Maybe that can happen another time, after Harry’s fucked out all the aggression in his system, all the need to make Louis submit _properly_ for once, to make him feel everything Harry’s feeling._ _

__Louis whimpers into his mouth, mumbling something Harry doesn’t catch, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but this, the feel of Louis tucked up on his lap, the perfect fit, the taste of him on Harry’s tongue, sweet and lovely._ _

__Just one time. Just one time and they can figure out the rest later. Harry’s tired of pretending he doesn’t want this as much as Louis does, that he doesn’t need this as much as Louis does. Can’t do it anymore._ _

__“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Harry murmurs, gripping the back of Louis’ neck, biting at his lower lip. “Would you, baby? You wouldn’t break my heart like that.”_ _

__Louis shifts restlessly, cock pressing against Harry’s stomach through his shirt. His scent is seeping into Harry’s skin, claiming him the same way he intends to claim Louis, slick starting to soak through the fly of Harry’s trousers. “No,” he admits, voice cracking, pushing the fingers of one hand down underneath the collar of Harry’s shirt, scratching lightly at his back._ _

__Heat surges through every single pore of Harry’s body. Louis wouldn’t. Louis would never break his heart like that because Harry is his alpha and there’s nothing that can come between them. Nothing in the entire world._ _

__“Good boy,” Harry murmurs, gripping Louis’ neck and tilting his head back farther to kiss him deeper, taste every inch of his mouth, re-memorize it._ _

__Louis is shivering underneath his hand, goosebumps prickling up even though Harry can feel the sweat on him with every pass his hands make, stroking over Louis’ back gently, his hips. “Alright, sweetheart?”_ _

__“I’ll be alright once you finally fucking _fuck me_ ,” Louis hisses, wiggling around on Harry’s lap. There’s something else there underneath the demand, something Harry can’t figure out, but trying to pull it out from him right now would be a mistake._ _

__Harry will pry it out of him in a few minutes, when the blood racing in his veins has slowed. For now he just tips them over, gets Louis back underneath him, settling in between his thighs, and kisses him some more, swiping at Louis’ tongue with his own while his cock grows impossibly harder._ _

__“You taste like wine,” Harry says, pulling back enough that he can smooth his fingers over the curve of Louis’ jaw, soft and sweet._ _

__Louis smiles sharply, just a hint of teeth showing. “Stole some from your private stash.”_ _

__Of course he did. Harry palms at Louis’ belly, gives it a little rub, watching Louis’ face for any hint of a reaction. “How much did you drink, baby?”_ _

__There’s a war waging itself on Louis’ face like he can’t decide whether to lie or tell the truth. “Only a few sips,” he says, drawing his lip into his mouth and biting down gently._ _

__It’s the truth. Harry can hear the truth in it._ _

__“And would you tell me if it was more than that?” Harry presses, slipping his hand down only a tiny bit, edging closer to Louis’ cock, drooling against his belly._ _

__Louis’ face goes sweet and soft, earnest. “I could never lie to you,” he says, fumbling a hand down and putting it over Harry’s._ _

__Even if Harry hadn’t known he was lying by the look on his face that statement definitely would have given it away. “Never, huh,” he says, mouthing across Louis’ jaw gently, keeping himself from biting._ _

__“Never,” Louis promises._ _

__It’s almost laughable. They’ve been lying to each other since the very beginning. Possibly that would be more worrying if the smell of sex wasn’t hanging in the air, already gone thick and cloying._ _

__“You love lying to me,” Harry murmurs, circling his fingers around Louis’ cock and stroking it gently, wetness seeping into his skin. “You love keeping me on my toes, making me chase you down for the truth.”_ _

__Louis bites on his lip, teeth sinking indentations into it that fade almost as soon as he releases it. “You love chasing me for it,” he says, fingernails digging into Harry’s shoulder._ _

__It’s true. If anything, the past few months have taught him that he’ll go to the ends of the Earth for Louis, that there’s almost nothing he won’t do for him if Louis asks._ _

__That thought is too much for this, for their first - _only_ \- time together. Harry banishes it to the back of his head and catches Louis’ mouth in another kiss, deep and wet and dragging, and lets his fingers drift down Louis’ back, behind his balls, over his taint gently, to finally slide in between his cheeks and ghost over his hole._ _

__The flesh gives easily, opening up and letting one of Harry’s fingers sink in to the first knuckle. It’s soft and warm and wet, clutching at him like Louis’ trying to draw him in, convince him to move faster._ _

__If this is the only time Harry’s going to get to do this he’s going to take his time._ _

__“You’re so naughty,” he says, licking at his own lips and tasting Louis. “What were you going to do if I didn’t come in here, huh? Fucking yourself with one of my candlesticks like they’re yours to take.”_ _

__A candlestick that’s currently trying to embed itself into Harry’s thigh. He has no idea when it slipped out of the tight clench of Louis’ hole or how it happened, but it must have._ _

__“I would have made myself come,” Louis says, eyes dark blue and pretty, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. “And let you smell me all over your sheets.”_ _

__“I already smell you all over my sheets,” Harry says, drawing his finger out entirely and ignoring the tiny little noise that escapes Louis’ throat. “You’re not good at pretending like you haven’t been sleeping in my bed whenever I’m not here.”_ _

__Louis tilts his chin up, defiant and not shy about it. “I sleep in your bed when you are here,” he says. “And you let me because you’re a _gentleman_.”_ _

__Whether it’s supposed to be an insult or a compliment still isn’t clear. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this, the way Harry’s hand has been gravitating towards the candle until his fingers curl around the end, pull it out from underneath his thigh and hold it up to give it a considering glance._ _

__“This was never going to satisfy you,” he says. Louis watches him, blinking slowly. “It was never going to feel the same as a real cock does, as a real knot does.”_ _

__Louis breathes out evenly, shoulders falling with the movement. He’s trapped underneath Harry’s weight, so pretty it’s distracting. “I wouldn’t know,” he says quietly, tugging at a strand of Harry’s hair until he bends his head closer. “Are you going to show me?”_ _

__It’s been _months_ of trying not to show him, trying to resist the urge to bend him over and take him, show him exactly how good it can feel. Harry’s tired of resisting that urge._ _

__“Aye,” he says, just as quiet as Louis had, and then pushes the candlestick back inside, pace slow and steady._ _

__Louis’ reaction is immediate, head banging back against the pillows, thighs spreading even farther apart, making room for Harry in between them. He breathes out loud, nearly a whimper._ _

__Harry’s going to pull a whimper out of him if it’s the last thing he does._ _

__“Does it feel good?” he asks, twisting his wrist as he pushes it inside again, watching it disappear inside Louis’ hole, rim pink and stretched around it almost obscenely._ _

__There’s a sheen of sweat covering Louis’ chest. It looks good enough to lick, taste, so that’s what Harry does, ducking his head to tongue at Louis’ collarbone._ _

__“Yes,” Louis says, already a little broken. His hips shift restlessly, cock bouncing against his belly, and Harry can’t even see it but he can feel it and that’s enough to have him wanting to taste that too, see if he tastes any different there than he does on his chest. “Feels good.”_ _

__As good as Harry’s tongue against the head of his cock? There’s really only one way to find out._ _

__“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry tells Louis’ navel as he moves down, sucking a kiss just underneath it, feeling his cock jump. “Look like a sweet little omega from a distance but you aren’t, are you? There’s nothing sweet about you.”_ _

__Sweat collects on the tip of Harry’s tongue, dragging down the flat pane of Louis’ stomach to his groin. “’m always sweet,” Louis murmurs, hips shifting again to cradle Harry in between his thighs._ _

__“Sweetest little omega I’ve ever known,” Harry murmurs back, dragging his tongue over the shaft of Louis’ cock, slow and gentle. Strawberries and caramel explode all across his taste buds, overwhelming and so good._ _

__“Only one who’s ever gotten your attention for more than five minutes,” Louis says, touching the side of Harry’s face tenderly, fingers soft. Harry sucks the head of Louis’ cock back into his mouth, not answering, taste of him dripping across Harry’s tongue._ _

__He tastes good here, too, sweet and addictive, and Harry can’t get enough of it. Isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to get enough of it._ _

__Louis’ noises get higher in pitch and faster, squirming underneath Harry’s body, cock dragging against his tongue, and Harry wants._ _

__He wants everything. Starting with finding out if Louis tastes any different when he comes._ _

__There’s no way he’s not going to find out, either, not with the way Louis is squirming underneath him, trying to sink more of his cock into Harry’s mouth, greedy and demanding, going after what he wants._ _

__He’d make a pretty good pirate._ _

__“Feels so good,” Louis sighs. Harry rubs his tongue along the vein in Louis’ cock a bit before pulling off and letting his breath blow across his own spit, cooling it and watching the way Louis’ cock jerks._ _

__“You gonna come?” Harry asks, pressing a kiss to Louis’ shaft._ _

__“Yes, Harry, wanna come,” Louis responds immediately, shifting restlessly._ _

___Alpha_ is buried underneath the words somewhere. Harry hears it in every syllable, every nuance, and the ugly alpha part of him wants to hear it every hour of every day for the rest of his life._ _

__It’s been a subconscious dream, having an omega to call his own. One to take care of, one who will take care of him. It’s going to continue being an unrealized dream._ _

__“Alright, baby,” Harry says, stroking Louis’ hip and ducking back down to suck his cock back into his mouth, going down farther this time, screwing his mouth tight and wet against Louis’ skin._ _

__Louis’ moans get even higher pitched, more broken. He’s restless and so warm underneath Harry’s hands, cock throbbing in Harry’s mouth. Harry sucks harder, humming a little, and that’s all it takes for Louis to come, flooding Harry’s mouth, salty and bittersweet._ _

__The only real option is to swallow, let that taste drain down his throat, tonguing over the head of Louis’ cock for a minute before pulling off. Louis is flushed and sweaty, collarbones standing out, blinking slowly._ _

__Harry still feels a little dazed himself. It’s probably the reason he can’t stop himself from saying, “Never seen anyone as pretty as you. My little royal omega brat, aren’t you.”_ _

__Pink spreads across Louis’ chest, down his belly. It’s so fucking attractive, distracting. Louis says something, hushed and mild. Harry doesn’t catch it, too busy inhaling the scent of slick. He can’t stop picturing what it must look like, wet and pink, seeping out of him, begging to be licked out._ _

__“Turn over, baby,” he says, letting go of the end of the candle and getting his hands around Louis’ thighs instead, helping him turn over onto his belly, stretch out on the sheets, get them even more tangled._ _

__“What’re we doing?” Louis asks, head turned, pillowed on his arms so he can keep looking at Harry. Harry touches Louis’ mouth with two fingers, plush and warm, and marvels at how good he feels, how good he looks._ _

__Like this, Harry’s eyes are drawn to the obscene stretch of Louis’ rim around the candle, still tucked up inside of him as if he never wants to let it go._ _

__He’s going to have to let it go, though, at least if he actually does want Harry’s cock inside of him. And he does. There’s no doubt that he does._ _

__“I’m just looking,” Harry says, dragging his thumb down the crease of Louis’ bum, splitting him farther apart so he has a better view. “Got yourself a pretty little hole, princeling.”_ _

__“Stop calling me that,” Louis says weakly, squirming against Harry’s hands._ _

__It’s too tempting not to. Harry bends down and brushes a fleeting kiss against the small of Louis’ back. “You are,” he murmurs, dipping his thumb down even more and pressing it against the candle, hard enough that it slides in a bit deeper. “You’re my little prince. My liege.”_ _

__Louis’ inhale is sharp and broken. He twitches on the pile of blankets, hole spasming around the wax, and it’s too interesting of a reaction not to explore. Harry drags it out with two fingers, pushing it back in slow, not deep. Just enough that the half formed whimpers in the back of Louis’ throat wash over him, settling like a fog._ _

__“Fuck,” Louis says, more or less whining, pleading. Harry presses another, more reassuring kiss to the base of his spine before pulling the candle out entirely, dropping it on the floor, uncaring of where it lands. With it gone, the sweet smell of slick becomes even more overpowering, leaking out as though the candle had been stopping it._ _

__“Shh, little one,” Harry says, dragging his thumb over that wet hole, rim giving underneath the pressure. Not enough for his thumb to sink inside, just enough to say _here, I’m willing, you can come in_._ _

__Possibly Harry’s a little arse struck right now. He isn’t accepting responsibility for that, not when Louis’ arse is so smooth and tempting and insanely pretty, leaking his luscious scent all over the place, inviting Harry to put his cock in it, make him come._ _

__First he’s finally going to find out what that smell tastes like._ _

__It takes exactly one slow, thorough lick to find out that he tastes like everything wonderful, strawberries and caramel and the unique taste of his skin, something heady and addictive about it. Harry’s never felt such a strong pull to any omega before. To anyone._ _

__There’s a lot of noise in the room, most of it coming from Louis, high pitched whimpers and half formed words, syllables dragging and mashed together. He sounds lovely, perfect, falling apart just from the gentle licking Harry’s giving him._ _

__Some of it is coming from Harry - same idea, different voice. He points his tongue and dips it into Louis’ hole, collecting slick and wiggling it around, face practically buried in Louis’ arse, and it’s almost all he can pay attention to. The sound of them together, the taste of Louis on his tongue, the clench of him that says he’ll be tight and clinging around Harry’s cock._ _

__Harry feels like he could do this forever, his own cock mostly forgotten between his legs, pressing against the blankets. There’s not nearly enough friction to get him off but his knot is threatening to form anyway, just from this. Just from having his tongue in his omega’s arse and making him fall apart._ _

__Louis’ arse. Not his omega. Because he’s not Harry’s. Sex has always made Harry a little bit stupid._ _

__He’s too busy concentrating on how it feels for him, how Louis might be the best thing he’s ever tasted to really think about how it feels for him until Louis squeezes down hard around Harry’s tongue, gasps out a string of nonsense into the pillows and comes._ _

__Two. That makes two orgasms for him in the span of ten minutes._ _

__Harry’s had sex with omegas before - not frequently, but enough that he knows some general things about the way an omega’s body works, knows that multiple orgasms are pretty par for the course for them._ _

__He’s never made an omega come twice in ten minutes before. Never even really came close. He doesn’t know how much of that has to do with his own sexual prowess and how much of it is due to Louis being a virgin, but he’d like to find out if he can turn that two into a three. Preferably soon._ _

__“Wanna fuck,” Louis slurs, even as he tries to press down onto Harry’s tongue for more._ _

__Harry wiggles his tongue around obligingly, absorbing the shivers that run through Louis’ body, and pulls it out slowly, lapping at the skin around his hole before moving his entire face away. “We are fucking, baby,” he says, bringing a hand up to rub at the wetness of Louis’ hole, dipping the tip of his index finger in. His chin is wet with slick and spit, jaw a little sore, but he feels like he could do this for hours still, just to hear the way Louis sounds, moaning like the waves crashing in the ocean above him._ _

__The sound Louis lets out is nothing short of broken. Harry’s instincts are torn between trying to soothe him and trying to make it worse._ _

__“Want your cock,” Louis tries again, even less coherent this time. He reaches for Harry’s shoulder and misses, gets the side of his face instead. “Want it inside me.”_ _

__He’s using his wiles again, or at least trying to. Harry’s cock is pretty sure that it’s working._ _

__“Yeah?” Harry asks, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of Louis’ hand. “You want it?” It’s tight in Louis’ hole, warm and wet, slick, and he’s wiggling again, trying to get it all the way inside of himself._ _

__“Please, Harry,” Louis pleads, pressing his hand against Harry’s cheek. Harry nuzzles at it, brushing the tip of his finger across Louis’ prostate once before sliding a second finger in beside it, watching the smooth, easy glide._ _

__Louis is so wet, practically dripping down Harry’s wrist as he opens up, easy and eager. Harry’s mouth waters again, wanting to taste him some more, already addicted. And if this is going to be the only time they get to do this Harry’s going to have to sate his urges now, give himself something to remember when he gets himself off alone later, so that’s what he does, hunkering back down and sliding his tongue straight back up into Louis’ hole._ _

__He tastes even better this time, all full of two of Harry’s fingers and his tongue, pretty and receptive, gasping high and lovely above Harry’s head. Harry digs his tongue in as far as he can get it, eating Louis out greedily, while his noises get higher and higher until they all but disappear._ _

__Then he eases a third finger inside and lets them fill Louis up while he finishes getting his fill of that taste, ignoring the way his own cock is begging to be touched, nearly dripping he’s so turned on._ _

__“Please,” Louis says, “please, please, please, please - ”_ _

__Harry’s tongue feels thick as he pulls it all the way out. “Just one more, sweetheart,” he murmurs, propping himself up on an elbow so he can watch Louis’ face, cheeks wet with what looks like both sweat and tears. “You can give me one more, can’t you? One more before I knot you.”_ _

__Louis closes his eyes, brows furrowing. He draws his knee up to his side, exposing his cock, lying hard between his belly and the blankets, stomach all wet with come, and the only thing Harry wants is for it to get even wetter. “Baby?” he prompts, letting his fingers come to a halt._ _

__“Promise,” Louis says, opening his eyes again and blinking slowly at Harry, sucking the corner of his lip into his mouth and biting down on it._ _

__“I promise,” Harry agrees, kissing Louis’ knee. “Just one more orgasm and then I’ll fuck you. Can you do that for me? Give me one more?”_ _

__“Yes,” Louis says, shifting over onto his back and laying his thigh up over Harry’s shoulder, keeping himself open and exposed to Harry’s gaze. “Can.”_ _

__God, he’s so beautiful. Harry gives his thigh another kiss before going back to the slow, gentle fingering he was focused on before, not adding his tongue back into the mix. It means he misses out on the taste but it also means he gets to see what Louis looks like as he gets fingered by someone else for the very first time._ _

__Stunning. Absolutely stunning. Arching his back, moving his hips, lips parted and chest gleaming with sweat. He’s innocence and every dirty fantasy Harry has ever had all combined in one perfect little package and Harry would do anything to have this not be the only time they get to do this._ _

__Before he can really start focusing on that thought, on how desperately he wants it, Louis comes. His back arches almost entirely off the ground, cock slapping up against his belly and coating it with another load of come. Harry drives his fingers up with him, milking the come out of him with all three fingers pressed directly against his prostate, and doesn’t let up until Louis’ whimpers become more pitiful and less turned on._ _

__“Look at that,” Harry breathes, letting his fingers slip out of Louis’ hole and leaning over him properly, boxing him in. “Can’t believe how amazing you are, baby.”_ _

__He kisses the words right out of Louis’ mouth, sucking on his tongue and pressing their hips together. Come makes the slide easy, has Harry’s cock getting even harder, leaking against Louis’ belly and making him even messier._ _

__And he’s already pretty messy._ _

__Harry almost can’t wait until after and he can just look all he wants, see exactly how pretty Louis is when he’s covered in his own come and still leaking Harry’s._ _

__“Now,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s mouth, wiggling pointedly. “Want it now, Harry.”_ _

__“Yes, my love,” Harry murmurs back, helping Louis slide his other leg up over Harry’s hip and curl around his back._ _

__Then he lines himself up and starts pushing inside, and for a brief second, everything stops. The entire world is narrowed down to the space between them, to how it feels sinking into Louis’ hole a centimeter at a time, to how Louis feels spread out underneath him, giving Harry’s everything he’s ever wanted._ _

__When the world comes rushing back, it only extends to the bed, to this one room. Harry’s crew is probably getting an earful but that doesn’t matter, not when Louis is tight and warm and perfect around him, nails digging welts into Harry’s back as he sinks inside._ _

__“Christ,” Harry breathes against Louis’ mouth, overwhelmed and almost in pain from how good it feels. He slips his arms underneath Louis’ back and gathers him up, holds him close. Doesn’t ever want to let him go._ _

__Louis is all but limp in his arms, lax and trusting. The only part of him that doesn’t feel soft and giving is his cock, hot and hard against Harry’s stomach despite how many times he’s come already. His fingers are laced behind Harry’s neck now, just holding on, eyes mostly closed as Harry’s cock disappears that final inch inside of him, and then Harry stops._ _

__“Alright?” he asks, freeing one hand to smooth Louis’ hair out of his eyes, hold him still for another kiss._ _

__Louis’ nod is slow and dazed. “Feels full.”_ _

__“D’you like it?” Harry presses. Needs to know. Wants to know._ _

__“Yeah,” Louis sighs, squirming a little. “Can you, like.”_ _

__Harry’s pretty sure the word missing from the end of that sentence is _move_ , so that’s what he does, rocking his hips gently, not even really pulling out. Just. Moving. Louis licks his lips, head tilting back against the pillow, and makes a low, satisfied noise._ _

__It’s enough to let Harry know that he likes it, that it’s making him feel good, and that makes Harry feel good in turn. Even better than he already did with his cock buried in the tight clench of Louis’ arse. He pulls out a little farther, rocks back in a little faster, and is rewarded with a low, breathy moan from Louis and a lovely throb from his own cock._ _

__“You feel so good,” he tells Louis, putting his arm back underneath him and pushing against the small of his back, tilting him up a little more, and then starts fucking him for real - deep, dragging thrusts that have Louis keening and trying to crush Harry between his thighs, keep him there or slow him down Harry doesn’t even know._ _

__And then he comes. In between one thrust and the next, all over both of them without even a hand touching his cock._ _

__It’s unclear whether it’s a first time thing, a Louis thing, or a two of them together thing, but Harry’s so fucking enamored by it regardless of the reason, of Louis’ apparent ability to come without needing to touch his cock._ _

__“Love you,” Louis answers, arms still looped around Harry’s neck. It comes out mostly indecipherable, and Harry’s not even really sure he heard it right, but it has his knot swelling against Louis’ rim anyway, thought sending shivers right through his body and into his cock._ _

__It’s probably just the heat of the moment. Louis doesn’t know what he’s saying, isn’t coherent enough. That’s all it is. There’s no reason for Harry’s cock to be reacting like this._ _

__“Shh, little one,” is the only thing Harry can think of to say, sliding his arms down Louis’ back and tilting him up a little more, making it easier for his knot to slip past his rim._ _

__Louis is all but keening, low and in the back of his throat, nails digging into the back of Harry’s neck and cock pink and flushed, still hard. The noises don’t stop as Harry’s knot grows, locks inside, and they’re not hurt noises, not exactly, but Harry can’t stop himself from talking Louis through it, just a mantra of, “I know, baby, it’s okay, you’re alright, I got you,” until everything in Harry’s line of vision has returned to its normal colour instead of the shocky ones he had been seeing._ _

__For a minute, Louis is so still Harry’s half afraid he’s killed him, knot too much for him to take his very first time. Then he swallows, throat bobbing with the movement, and that’s enough. Harry fastens his mouth over that spot, the one he saw movement, and sucks until Louis is whimpering, hands fisted in Harry’s hair and nails digging into his scalp._ _

__“Feels so good,” Harry smears the words into Louis’ throat, lets them sink in, teeth nudging up against thin skin as he rocks his knot a little, testing._ _

__“Want it,” Louis mumbles back, holding Harry close to him, not letting him go. Harry feels warm all over, orgasm building and building and building, so much come he’s almost afraid he’s going to drown Louis with it when he lets it out, his pretty little omega._ _

__“I know, sweetheart, gonna give it to you,” Harry murmurs, squeezing Louis impossibly close as he starts to come, breathing wetly against the side of his face and letting his eyes flutter closed as he relishes in the feeling._ _

__He gets lost in it for a minute, in how fucking _good_ it feels, Louis’ arse clenching hot and slick around him, accepting and ready, taking everything Harry has to give. When he zones back in Louis is squirming underneath him, panting even as he strokes Harry’s hair and says, “Oh, yes, please, Harry,” over and over again._ _

__“So good to me,” Harry says, easing back just enough to give Louis a tiny bit of space, enough that he can watch every single expression that filters across Louis’ face, warm and open and pleased._ _

__“Make me come,” Louis says softly, eyes mostly closed, lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. Harry’s not dumb enough to think it’s a request._ _

__“Yes, my prince,” he hushes, sealing his mouth against Louis’ again and kissing him deeply, swallowing Louis’ noises. Louis’ cock is silky hot and wet when Harry reaches for it, hard and demanding. Come slicks the way as Harry begins stroking him, grip tight and firm, giving it enough pressure that he can almost feel Louis whining._ _

__This is ruining him for all other sex. Harry can only hope that Louis doesn’t feel the same - it’s bad enough that he’s technically taking Louis’ virginity. The last thing he needs is for it to be the best sex Louis will ever have._ _

__“So good for me, sweetheart, gonna come, aren’t you,” Harry says into Louis’ throat, not even sure Louis can hear him._ _

__Either it’s the best timing ever or Louis can hear him, because he does come, trying and mostly failing to fuck his hips up into Harry’s hand, shuddering in Harry’s arms, and Harry can’t even really see it but he knows it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Prettier than all the art he’s ever stolen, all the faces he’s ever seen. Nothing compares._ _

__Time passes. Whether it’s fast or slow Harry has no idea, only knows the scent of Louis’ sweat with his face buried against his neck, the feeling of Louis’ hole around his knot as Harry hitches his hips up idly, drawing them back and forth a little, making sure that it feels as good for Louis as it does for him._ _

__Louis comes again, weak and shuddering, mostly quiet in Harry’s arms. His fingers are tangled in Harry’s hair, and it’s so warm in here, nice. Smells like sex and sweat and Louis’ come._ _

__Harry’s mostly done coming himself. It’ll still be a few minutes, though, and Louis’ breathing has gone decidedly raspy underneath him, so with some difficulty Harry rolls them over gently, not letting them pull apart. The bedding is soft and warm underneath his back and Louis isn’t heavy on top of him, head pressed against Harry’s shoulder, hair tickling his chin._ _

__It’s more intimate than Harry normally is with his partners. Then again, Harry doesn’t normally bed them on his ship, either. There’s some firsts for him as well._ _

__Everything is warm and cozy. There’s little shocks of pleasure still running through Harry’s body occasionally, when he shifts or when Louis snuffles into his chest, but it’s comfortable enough to draw a blanket up around their shoulders and let his eyes slip closed._ _

__Just for a minute, then Harry will wake up properly and ease himself out of Louis’ hole, clean them both up. Everything is fine for now - Liam’s got control of the ship and Harry has control of this. Everything is fine._ _


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, everything does not look fine. Everything looks fucked up and like a jumbled mess, weak light shining into the cabin through the small window, and every minute of last night, every _second_ , comes rushing back to Harry all at once.

He stole Louis’ virginity. Jesus Christ, he stole Louis’ virginity.

At some point during the night, he must have slipped out of Louis. They’re curled up together now, Louis half on Harry’s chest, legs twined together. The scent of their sex is still hanging in the air, mouth watering and distracting.

Louis stirs against his chest, eyelashes fluttering. “Want water,” he croaks, fingertips sliding along the inside of Harry’s wrist slowly.

Christ. The touch shouldn’t feel nearly as good as it does. “Okay,” Harry says, a little bit desperate for an excuse to get up, get out of this room, away from the smell. Away from the temptation. “I’ll go get you some.”

There’s a slight pause. Harry resists the urge to fidget. It definitely sounds like a suspicious pause.

“Okay,” Louis says eventually. “Don’t you want to kiss me before you go?”

Harry would _love_ to kiss him before he goes. Harry would love to spend at least the next three days kissing him. That’s not conducive to getting himself out of this situation without making it any worse, though.

Although. Now that he’s already gone and fucked Louis once, would it really be that bad to do it again? It’s not as though anyone is ever going to know exactly how many times Harry has taken him - all it takes is once.

No. That’s a terrible idea. He’s already loathe to pry his fingers off of Louis’ skin as it is.

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” he says carefully. From this angle he can’t see Louis’ face very clearly.

He would still be willing to bet that Louis is glaring at him.

“Why?” Louis demands. “Am I good enough for you to fuck but not good enough to kiss in the morning?”

Okay, Harry is _definitely_ in over his head. He’s had a few jilted ex-lovers in the past, for one reason or another, but never a prince.

Never an omega prince whose virginity he just stole. Fuck. Harry is definitely in over his head.

“No,” Harry says, practically tripping over himself as he tries to smooth over the situation. “You’re lovely, you know that.”

Louis pushes himself up onto his elbows, planted painfully in Harry’s chest. Harry’s smart enough not to say anything. “ _Lovely_?” Louis repeats, voice gaining a dangerous edge.

Lovely and pretty. Harry is going to say neither of those things - he doesn’t want to get stabbed. He always knew giving into Louis’ demands for a knife would come back to haunt him.

“I just - ” Harry tries. “Water?”

“Lovely?” Louis repeats again.

Fuck. How did Harry not see this coming. “Gorgeous,” he amends. “I would love to spend the entire day kissing you, but I do have a ship to run.”

The glare doesn’t let up. It may or may not be affecting Harry’s cock.

“I let you inside of me,” Louis says, pushing himself up even more, so he’s full out sitting on Harry’s hips. “First alpha I’ve ever let knot me and you want to walk away in the morning without even bothering to kiss me?”

Harry’s cock is definitely being affected now. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” he says weakly.

“Kissing me?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re digging your own grave here, you do realize that, right?”

Oh, Harry knows. “If I kiss you I’m not going to want to stop.”

He already doesn’t want to stop and they haven’t even started yet. Louis’ mouth is so pink, still slightly swollen from last night, and the way he smells.

Christ. The way he smells, still slick with Harry’s come, his own wetness. He smells edible. He _looks_ edible, bite marks littering his neck and bruises forming on his inner thighs, hair mussed and unstyled, belly smeared with dried come.

Plus there’s his cock, soft, pressing against Harry’s own belly, just asking to be played with. Little omega all ripe for the taking.

“Well, how about this,” Louis says, folding his hands together neatly, “if you don’t kiss me I’m going to go out there like this and distract you until you come back to bed with me.”

He’s a fucking _manipulator_. Harry’s more than impressed. Harry wants to bed him again.

There really isn’t time for that, though. They’re a fortnight off course and the sooner they get Louis back to England the sooner Harry will stop having to resist him. So he does the only thing he can think of to do.

He kisses him.

It doesn’t really go the way Harry had planned.

Louis opens up for it immediately, thighs flexing in Harry’s hands, gripping Harry’s head between his palms. Suddenly, it’s apparent that they’re both still naked, rubbing against each other.

Specifically, that Harry’s cock is rubbing against Louis’ bum, bare skin against bare skin. It’s a slick, easy rub, wet with their combined fluids. Sexier than it sounds.

“You should fuck me again,” Louis murmurs into his mouth, rolling his hips slowly. He’s in the perfect position for his bum to ride the shaft of Harry’s cock, cheeks splitting apart so Harry’s cockhead rubs over his wet rim, still slightly open.

Harry shouldn’t fuck him again. Harry should say _thanks but no thanks_ , lift Louis off of him and go drown himself in the sea so he won’t be tempted any more. “I should fuck you,” he finds himself repeating.

Slurring, more like. It’s hard to enunciate when his tongue is mostly in Louis’ mouth, being sucked on like Louis never wants to let it go.

“Yeah,” Louis whispers, twisting himself up and planting his hands on Harry’s stomach, grinding back down. “Fuck me, sweetheart, come on.”

Harry’s a man who’s capable of admitting when he’s wrong, and he’s wrong now. For ever thinking that this was going to go any way but this, for ever thinking that one time would be enough.

One time is so far from enough.

The head of Harry’s cock breaches Louis’ hole, starts sinking in. Harry’s lost in a haze of fog, a field of strawberries, but he manages to pull himself together long enough to grip Louis by the hips, stop him from sinking down even farther and says, “Gonna hurt yourself.”

Louis shakes his head, white teeth sinking into his pink bottom lip briefly. “Not gonna.”

Harry’s thinking straight enough to realize he’s probably right, that he must still be open from the first time Harry had him, so he just stays still, makes sure Louis has a straight line to sink down onto him, and the glide is slow and easy.

“Be careful,” he murmurs anyway, reluctant to let go of Louis’ hips.

Louis’ smiling as he leans down for a kiss, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair and sitting fully impaled on his cock, not in a rush to go anywhere. “Don’t have to be careful when I have you, do I. Know you’re going to be watching my back.”

It doesn’t even make sense, not really. It still has Harry sitting up properly so he can help Louis start to move, just a slow, gentle rocking. Kissing has never felt so good, so right, and it’s almost like Harry can’t stop, swiping his tongue against Louis’ and tasting every inch of his mouth.

“You would never let anyone hurt me,” Louis continues, voice breaking a little as he starts to bounce faster, harder. “Would you, alpha? Never let anyone hurt me.”

“No,” Harry says, crushing Louis as close to him as he physically can before flipping them and taking over, short fast thrusts until Louis is making noises, the kind of noises he made last time and coming, just as easy as that.

If Harry was able to concentrate he’s entirely sure it would be the prettiest thing in the world, Louis coming on his cock and breathy and pliant, nails digging into Harry’s back. It feels too good for that, too good to be able to focus on Louis’ cock spurting out come. Hopefully Harry will be aware enough to witness the next one.

“Gorgeous little omega all full of my cock,” Harry breathes, barely even aware of what he’s saying. His knot is already starting to form at the base of his cock and it’s only been a few minutes. It must be Louis - it’s never been like this with any other omega.

“Want it,” Louis says, arms wrapped around Harry’s neck, clinging on like he’s scared they’re going to part.

Harry wants it too. His knot is swelling, enough that it’ll fit inside Louis perfectly, so Harry pushes in all the way and stays there, pressing against Louis’ prostate hard enough that Louis’ noises go so high they’re almost inaudible, heel skidding along Harry’s back as he tries to angle his leg up.

For a second, Louis sounds almost pained. “Shh, little prince,” Harry murmurs, helping Louis find a better position, holding him close and kissing him again as his knot settles in Louis’ hole. Everything is warm and tight and almost fuzzy, beautifully narrowed down to the two of them on this bed. “Wanna come again?”

Louis’ hand is slipping all over Harry’s back, nails scraping and digging in at places until it settles in Harry’s hair. He nods, lips dragging across Harry’s cheek as he gasps for air, echoes, “Wanna come,” even as Harry’s fingers close around his cock.

It’s warm and silky in his hand, slippery with the orgasms he’s already had, easy to stroke. Harry grips Louis’ cock tight and starts pulling him off, hips pressed up deep against Louis’ arse, and it takes him barely any time at all before he’s coming again, all flushed and pretty underneath Harry’s body.

“Such a perfect boy,” Harry murmurs, reaching up with his free hand to hold Louis’ head still, take another kiss. He’s still filling Louis up with his come, making him all wet and used. He’s almost finished, knot all but gone all the way down, but it feels too good to stop kissing Louis, mouth soft and sweet and lax under Harry’s, trusting.

They barely leave the bed for the rest of the day.

 

Harry doesn’t mean for it to become a thing. He really, really doesn’t mean for it to become a thing - it’s what he’s been trying to avoid this entire time, after all, but two times turns into three as easily as it had two, and then four and five and six all within the span of forty-eight hours.

It’s almost like an addiction, sex with Louis. The part of his brain that’s actually properly alpha is so satisfied with itself, with the knowledge that he is Louis’ first, the only person he’s ever laid with. It’s impossible to shake in its ferocity.

After the sixth time, Harry makes a point of leaving the bed to run his ship. It’s hard, in more ways than one, especially when Louis is still lounging admist the blankets, looking at peace and entirely too happy with himself.

He’s a distraction even when Harry can’t see him, one it’s entirely necessary to get rid of. There’s no way things can continue on like this.

That thought flies out of Harry’s head the second Louis emerges from his cabin, clad only in a thin robe even though it’s after noon and practically the entire crew is milling about. Harry abandons the pretense of working and immediately strides over, blocking Louis’ path before he can get very far.

“You’re practically naked,” Harry hisses, keeping his voice low and trying to shield Louis’ body from view.

Slowly, Louis raises an eyebrow. “So? I seriously doubt anyone on this ship is under the illusion that they have a chance with me.”

That almost sounds like he’s saying no one has a chance with him because he’s Harry’s. Harry has to shake the thought away. “It’s improper,” he says instead.

The eyebrow climbs even higher. “Improper? I’m sorry, I was under the illusion that you’re a _pirate_. I didn’t really think you’d care about propriety.”

Harry doesn’t care about propriety. Most of the time he couldn’t care less about who’s wandering around naked - it’s part of the pirate way of life, some naked skin. But Louis being mostly naked? Louis, omega prince, firstborn son of the King of England.

Yeah, not so much.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the churning in Harry’s gut at the thought of someone else getting to see Louis naked. Nothing at all.

“You should be wearing clothes,” Harry says, even though he can’t think of a logical reason _why_ Louis should be wearing clothes. At least not one that doesn’t involve the tight ball of jealousy in his stomach.

“Sure,” Louis says easily, leaning back against the wall and propping his bare foot up, robe threatening to slip off his thigh and expose him for everyone to see. Harry takes a quick look around, just to make sure there’s no one who will actually see it if it happens. “I’ll put on clothes if you tell me you’re not going to try to send me back home now.”

Immediately, Harry parrots, “I’m not going to try to send you back home.”

Louis narrows his eyes, one hand sliding down his belly to toy with the belt keeping the sides of the robe together. “Now tell me without lying about it.”

Harry huffs out an exasperated breath and grabs Louis’ hand, pulling it away from the belt. He can’t have this conversation with Louis threatening to unknot it and leave him naked with the sun on his front and the wind in his face. As pretty as it would be that’s the last thing he needs right now.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Harry tells him a little hopelessly. Somehow manages to resists the urge to curl their fingers together. “We both know what a bad idea you staying here is.”

“You know what else is a bad idea?” Louis asks, pressing his knuckles against Harry’s hip. “You treating me like I’m someone’s else property.”

There’s no way to counter that without this turning into an argument, and Harry doesn’t want to fight with him right now. Not with the headiness of their sex still running through their veins, even now, hours later. The pheromones must still be hanging off of them, making Louis so much more capable of getting his way, bend Harry to his will.

“You’re not,” Harry says eventually, meeting Louis’ eyes. “You’re not anyone’s property, Louis, of course not. But you don’t _belong_ here. You belong in England, with your family.”

Louis sighs, taking the initiative and tangling their fingers together, lifting them up to press their joint hands against Harry’s chest. “Listen to me carefully,” he says firmly. “I understand there’s a part of your brain that wants you to do what you think is best for me, but you don’t get to decide. I decide what I want to do and _I_ decide what’s best for me and if those two things don’t match then they’re my mistakes to make, understand?”

Harry nods. It’s a little sullen. Louis’ sigh is much less irritated this time. “I’m going to tell you something you probably don’t want to hear,” Louis says, tapping two fingers against Harry’s chest.

“Please don’t,” Harry says. He’s expecting it when Louis ignores him.

“Rationally, you know that I’m not property and that you can’t make me do anything,” Louis continues. “But this thing between us isn’t _rational_. Even though you know I’m not property you can’t stop thinking of me as yours. It’s the alpha in you.”

“That’s not true,” Harry denies weakly. His fingers twitch against his own chest, still trapped by Louis’ hands.

“Sure it is,” Louis says easily. “You just seem to be missing the part where I don’t mind.” He pats Harry’s chest one more time and then he just - 

Walks away.

 

For about an hour, Harry can’t push the interaction out of his head. They’re drifting lightly through the water with no set destination. That’s what Harry is supposed to be doing right now, picking their next destination so he can give it to Zayn who will set their course, but Harry is distracted.

Zayn ends up coming to him. “So where are we heading, Captain?” he asks, bracing his forearms against the railing and leaning over so he can follow Harry’s gaze into the deep blue of the ocean.

Harry inhales slowly. “Where do you want to go?”

For a minute, Zayn is quiet. It’s not unusual for him - he’s considering the question. “I’ve always wanted to go to Barcelona,” he says thoughtfully.

“Barcelona it is, then,” Harry agrees. “Set sail for Barcelona.”

Zayn doesn’t move. “We’ll need to make two stops along the way to re-stock,” he says. “Unless we come across a merchant ship we can raid. The Cyclades usually offer a good selection of merchant ships. What should we plan for?”

Harry considers it. Taking the route along the Cyclades will add a few days to the trip but Harry’s always been fond of the islands there, the soft white sands of their beaches and the clear blue waters, the sparsity of the population on some of the islands. It’s beautiful there, maybe even one of Harry’s favourite places in the world and Zayn knows it.

Overtaking a merchant ship would be taking a step they haven’t so far, not with Louis on board. Raiding another ship is what pirates do but in this entire time Harry’s crew hasn’t. Because Harry hasn’t ordered them to.

Because there’s a part of Harry that doesn’t want to expose Louis to the violence of a pirate’s life. 

Maybe it’s time he does. Maybe it’s time he lets Louis choose.

“The Cyclades it is.”

 

It takes a few days to reach the Cyclades. In that time, Harry doesn’t avoid Louis per se, but he definitely takes great care to keep himself busy. And he definitely ignores every not-so-subtle question Louis asks over those few days about their destination. Saying it out loud means it’s real, that this is something Harry is diving into feet first. There’s no taking it back if he says it out loud.

Not that there’s any taking it back even if he doesn’t say it out loud. He would just like to put it off for a while still.

It isn’t until coast of Andros starts coming into view that Harry pulls Louis into the cabin and tells him. If his heart is racing as he does it’s no one’s business but his own.

“We’re going to find a merchant ship and raid it,” Harry says bluntly, folding his arms across his chest.

Louis blinks, lips parting. “You are,” he says. It’s not a question.

Harry continues, “We need supplies and the merchant ships around these parts tend to have them. What I need you to do is - ”

“I’m not going to hide,” Louis interrupts. Harry shakes his head.

“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that you need to stick close to Zayn and do exactly what he tells you do to when he tells you to do it. Don’t draw any unnecessary attention to yourself and don’t say anything to anyone you don’t recognize.”

It’s not a risk-free plan. It’s far from being a risk-free plan, actually, and there’s a huge part of Harry that doesn’t want to be doing this, putting Louis at risk like this. But that’s not his decision to make and if they’re going to do this, however temporarily, Harry has to give Louis the chance to chose for himself. He can’t be another person on Louis’ life who tries to make decisions for him, not anymore.

For a minute, Louis just stares at him, uncomprehending. Harry doesn’t fidget uncomfortably. It’s only because he knows it’s an irrational urge, but he doesn’t give in to the urge to do it, and he thinks that’s something.

“You’re letting me participate,” Louis says haltingly. “You - you don’t have any objections to this?”

Oh, Harry has tons of objections to this and he’s pretty sure Louis knows it. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s a step they have to take.

“Stay close to Zayn,” Harry repeats. “I can’t - I’m not going to be able to worry about you while this is going on, alright? So just stay close to Zayn.”

“Wow, straight from treating me like an actual member of this crew to reminding me what a liability I am,” Louis says. “Thanks a lot.”

Outside the door, Danny shouts that there’s a ship in sight. It’s officially time. Harry can’t stand here and argue about this right now. “Just do it,” he says. “Please.” He puts his hand on the doorknob, ready to go lead his crew into a raid.

Louis grabs his arm before Harry can leave. “Thank you,” he says quietly, giving Harry a small, private small.

If he manages to get through this without getting himself hurt it will definitely feel like Harry’s won something.

 

“Liam!” Harry yells, thrusting his sword up to block the parry of the sailor he’s fighting, ducking underneath his arm. Brings his elbow down on the guy’s head, knocks him out cold. “Liam, do you have him?”

Around him, the clang of swords meeting rings through the air, bodies moving, fighting. Harry’s sword gets knocked out of his hand before Liam answers, forcing him to use his head.

Literally. He headbutts the next person who attacks him, ramming him into a post. It hurts Harry but it hurts the other person more.

“I have him!” Liam shouts back, triumphant, and just like that, the fighting stops.

Because the end of Liam’s sword is pressed against the throat of the Captain of _The Dragon’s Death_.

Harry straightens up. Wipes a bit of blood off of his cheek. Could be his, could be anyone else’s. Doesn’t matter.

“Captain,” he says, addressing the man cowering at the end of Liam’s sword. “Tell your crew to yield.”

The man straightens his own back. “And if I don’t?”

“Dead men tell no tales,” Harry says blandly, enjoying the way the colour drains out of the man’s face. It’s a bluff even if the man doesn’t know it - they do their best to avoid taking any lives during their raids. They’re usually pretty successful as well.

Scare tactics usually work out pretty well for them.

“Stand down,” the man says weakly. Harry raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to repeat it louder, so his crew can actually hear it. “Stand down.”

“There’s a good lad,” Harry says approvingly, nodding to Liam to lower his sword a bit. “Tie them up!”

 

They find everything they need to last them a few more weeks and then some. Louis takes great glee in supervising the transport from _The Dragon’s Death_ to _The Sparrow_. Harry leaves him to it, a handful of crew remaining on _The Dragon’s Death_ to supervise the captives, tossing out a few last minute commands over his shoulder.

Then he goes to find Zayn.

“Hey,” Zayn greets him distractedly, pencil tucked behind his ear, frowning down at a list. “Need something?”

Harry shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “How was Louis?” There doesn’t seem to be a way to ask it without sounding invested in the answer.

Zayn looks at him, arching one eyebrow on his perfectly clean face. It’s just like him to remain dirt-free even after a fight. “He was fine, mate. Followed your orders.”

Something akin to pleasure prickles at Harry’s gut. “Followed your orders, you mean?”

“Nah,” Zayn says, shaking his head. He takes the pencil out from behind his ear and makes a mark on his list. “He was definitely following your orders. Did what I told him to do but I’m pretty sure he was only doing it because you told him to listen in the first place.”

Well. That’s a little bit unexpected.

Zayn’s gone back to watching him again. “How is this not something you’ve realized by now?” he asks. “He only pretends not to listen to you, Harry. Probably only does it because he knows it gets to you.”

Harry sighs. “But he was okay?” he presses. “Didn’t have to fight anyone?”

“Have to?” Zayn asks. “No. Did he? Yeah, a couple. Held his own, too.”

Christ. That’s not what Harry wanted to hear at all. He would have preferred not knowing that. “Thanks,” he says, sighing a little more. Trudges back to check on how the inventory transfer is going.

There’s the smallest, tiniest part of him that’s proud of Louis being able to hold his own in a fight. Harry has the feeling that he’ll eventually come to terms with it. Probably sooner rather than later.

 

Harry has always had a soft spot for the Cyclades. It’s beautiful there, relaxing. Naturally they can’t just continue on their journey without stopping for a few days. Obviously they have to anchor closer to a different island, but it’s worth it. They’ll have to take shifts going into Serifos, anchored as far away as they are. 

One of the perks of being Captain, though, is not having to take one of those shifts. Harry plans on spending two full days on the island, immersing himself in the culture and the food, getting lost in it. It’ll be a nice change from Harry’s hectic lifestyle.

First he has to manage to get off the ship without Louis stopping him or trying to accompany him. Make no mistake, Harry has plans for the next two days, and those plans absolutely involve Louis, but first he has plans with his boys.

Drinking. He has plans to drink with his boys.

Getting off the ship is actually easy, for once. All it takes is explaining to Louis why he can’t come with them. It’s something he accepts easily, smiling and patting Harry on the cheek, leaving him flummoxed. Who knew that the friend bonding thing is something Louis would accept so easily.

 

They find the seediest looking tavern they can and pile inside, volume reasonable for now. Zayn heads over to the bar to order while the rest of them find a table that’ll hold the four of them. Harry takes a second to indulge his irrational jealousy - Zayn speaks an insane amount of languages, and while his Greek is rusty it’s good enough he can order for them. Harry’s never been good at picking up languages. 

“I hate him sometimes,” Harry says out loud, falling into an empty chair.

“Pretty sure he hates you sometimes too, Cap’n,” Niall says cheerfully, popping a handful of peanuts into his mouth. They’re probably stale, been sitting on the table for an indeterminable amount of time. Niall eats them without so much as wincing.

Harry stretches, back popping a little. “Pretty sure I hate all of you sometimes,” he says, matching Niall’s cheer level. He’ll never quite manage to exceed it, at least not until he has a few drinks in him.

Speaking of drinks, Zayn joins them with a tray full of them, setting it in the middle of the table before claiming a seat for himself. “What’re you going on about now?”

“Harry’s just telling us about how much he hates us,” Liam tells him, reaching out and snagging a glass from the tray. The liquor in it is dark and unrecognizable, which Harry can appreciate. Unknown liquor always seems to get him drunk faster.

“Oh, poor little baby, having a loyal crew at his beck and call,” Zayn mocks, grabbing a glass of his own and taking a swig of it.

Harry sniffs, taking his own glass and swallowing a huge mouthful before he replies. “I’m glad you feel my pain, Zayn. It really means a lot to me.”

If he would a little bit drunker he would have found that hilarious - rhyming pain and Zayn. The rest of them would have found it funny as well. They’re nothing if not immature when they’re drinking.

“Yeah, you’ve got it really hard,” Zayn continues. “Do you need a hug?”

Harry chugs the rest of his drink before standing up. “You know what, Zayn, I _do_ need a hug.” He hug tackles Zayn before Zayn has a chance to say anything, tipping him out of his chair. They land on the floor, smushed painfully together, one of Zayn’s elbows digging into Harry’s ribs and Harry’s hair attempting to strangle Zayn.

The chair breaks in the process. Zayn’s yelling something underneath him, but Harry can’t make out what it is. Not with the barkeep poking at his back with a broom and yelling at him in Greek, presumably trying to kick them out.

They go, spilling out into the warm night, down the street until they find another bar. Less seedy this time but still unsavory, grimy. Again, Zayn walks up to the bar to order for them, coming back with a tray full of shots this time.

The night deteriorates from there. They go from bar to bar, abandoning some just before they get kicked out and actually getting thrown out of others. Once midnight has passed they end up on an abandoned street, lying in the middle of the road with their limbs strewn all over the place, overlapping and tangled. It’s a nice night, sky clear and lots of stars visible, just warm enough that they’re not cold but not so warm they’re sweating. Perfect weather.

“Remember the last time we did this?” Niall asks suddenly, all fumbly fingers as he passes a bottle they stole from the last bar over to Liam. “Think it was actually Barcelona that time. Never gonna forget the way you got us chased out of the country by the police, eh, Liam.”

Harry laughs, stretching his fingers as he remembers. That had been a good night too, full of laughter and alcohol. Definitely memorable.

“Well, Niall, if it wasn’t for you trying to swipe the manacles off an off-duty police officer we probably would have been left alone,” Liam retorts, taking a swig of the bottle before passing it over to Harry.

Zayn hums consideringly. “Dunno, mate, think the husband of the bird you were chatting up that night might have taken offense to where that encounter was leading. Probably would have gotten some trouble from him and his mates. Looked like a burly group, them.”

“How was I supposed to know she was married?” Liam protests. Harry hides his smile into the bottle as he takes a deep, satisfying swig, rum burning its way down his throat. “Didn’t realize she was spoken for until Harry dropped her ring into my hand.”

That ring is sitting in Harry’s dresser back on the ship. It barely has any value attached to it, so at this point Harry is keeping it for purely sentimental reasons. He’s a little surprised Louis hasn’t come across it in his searches through Harry’s things and demanded to know where it came from.

“You’re lucky I found it,” Harry says, pressing the bottle into Zayn’s hand and folding his arms up underneath his head. “We clearly had better odds against the police than we did against that group of raging idiots. Last thing I needed is another terribly drawn wanted poster of my face hanging around another city.”

“Don’t worry, babes, I would have commissioned it for the police and made sure you weren’t recognizable,” Zayn says, patting Harry’s face drunkenly. He would have, too, and no doubt refused to explain to any of them how he managed it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s pulled a miracle out of the bag and saved all of their arses.

They must all be thinking the same thing, because they all burst out laughing at more or less the same time, cackling as they roll over each other. Harry ends up on his stomach with his face pressed uncomfortably against the asphalt, Niall reclining against his side, Zayn’s legs propped up on his back and Liam’s knee digging into his ribs. It’s annoyingly comfortable, actually, in a way it would never be with anyone but these three lads. Harry loves them with all of his heart and doesn’t have to be drunk to tell them so.

“I wish this was grass,” Harry mumbles into the road. He can feel pebbles digging their way into his cheek. Pretty soon they’ll be a permanent fixture, stuck to his face for the rest of his life. He’s surprisingly okay with that.

“Arse?” Niall asks. “Whose arse? Louis’ arse?”

Harry squints down at the road. “Why are you talking about arse?”

“Didn’t you just say arse?” Niall asks. “I’m confused. Are you missing Lou’s arse? Is it really that good? Never known you to go on about missing a lay before.”

It’s a testament to Harry’s drunkenness that he just goes with it. “It really is that good,” he confirms. “Don’t know why I thought he’d be a quieter lay. Never quiet, that one.”

Someone slaps Harry’s back. He can’t tell who from his position, but if he knew he would totally get up and fight them. Definitely. “You know he would kill you if he heard you talking about him like that, right?” Liam asks. Must have been him, then. 

Maybe the fighting can wait a few more minutes. Harry’s becoming one with this piece of road. He hopes they’ll name it after him when he dies. “You going to run home and tell him, then, Liam?” Harry asks, managing to wiggle one arm free to flip him off. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how chummy the two of you are getting. You try stealing him from me and I’ll put you at rope’s end, don’t think that I won’t.”

Liam smacks him again. “You’re fucking poxy if you think he’s going to let himself be stolen,” he says. “Christ, I’m pretty sure he’s going to end up running your ship if you’re not careful. Might not even be a bad thing, either.”

Actually, Harry’s pretty sure that would be a bad thing. Who knows what kind of changes Louis would try to make to the order of things. He’d probably have Harry swabbing the deck every day.

“He’s going to cause me so much trouble,” Harry sighs, shifting uncomfortably. “Let’s go get him now, please.”

They go to get him.

 

“What the hell?” Louis says when he opens the door to the group of them, clad in a dressing gown. Presumably with nothing on underneath. Either he wasn’t expecting Harry to return tonight or he was and he was going to welcome him home with sex.

Mm. Welcome home sex. That’s always nice, that.

“We came to visit you!” Liam chirps, unbelievably cheerful despite the ridiculous amount of alcohol he’s consumed. 

“You came to visit me,” Louis repeats slowly. “Thought this was your lads night?”

“It is,” Harry agrees, stumbling forward and smushing Louis’ face between his hands. “You’re a lad too, baby.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. It looks very strange with his cheeks all squished up like this. “Are we at the point in our relationship where you call me baby in front of your friends?” he wonders. He doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer, reaching up to draw Harry’s hands away from his face. 

Zayn groans, pushing all four of them as a collective unit back into the room. “How about we don’t talk about that right now,” he suggests, shutting the door behind them. “Harry wouldn’t shut up about wanting to get you and somehow that got Niall started on wanting to see what kind of jewelry he’s got stashed in here and Liam wouldn’t stop singing. So here we are.”

“And somehow you’re the only one who’s even remotely sober?” Louis asks skeptically, hands full with Harry as he struggles to support both of them. He’s doing such a good job. Harry pats his face again, hoping to convey that message.

Possibly there was another bottle of rum during the trip back to the ship. Niall procured it from somewhere and Harry is still too drunk to figure out where.

Ha. Trip ship. That rhymes.

Zayn offers Louis a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t call myself sober, exactly, but I’m definitely more lucid than they are. Niall kept shouting that he was a leprechaun on the way back.”

“That,” Niall says, pointing a wobbly finger at Zayn, “is bloody offensive, mate, and I reckon that I don’t appreciate it.”

Harry inhales deeply, smelling the sweet scent of Louis. “Your hair smells good,” he informs him, in case Louis doesn’t know. It’s very important that he knows.

“You’re not a cute drunk,” Louis tells him, practically dragging Harry over to the pile of blankets on the floor. “Sit.”

Harry sits. Well, it’s more like he crumples down to the floor when Louis stops supporting his weight. But he still ends up sitting, is the point.

Over by the door, Zayn and Niall are still arguing about leprechauns. Harry doesn’t have anything useful to add to that conversation, so instead he focuses his attention on Louis, standing in front of him with his back turned and his arms crossed over his chest.

Christ, he has such a pretty bum. So round and bouncy and perfect. The second Harry gets him alone he’s going to bite it a little, leave his mark. It’s an arse that’s well deserving of teeth marks, Harry thinks. Wisely, he chooses to keep that thought to himself. Even in his drunken state he knows it would be a terrible life choice to say it out loud. Louis would absolutely stab him for it.

Pretty little wrists, too. At least Harry would have something nice to look at while he’s being stabbed to death. There’s always an upside.

“What are you,” Louis starts, glancing at Harry over his shoulder. “Jesus, are you actually falling over sitting down? There’s no winning with you, is there.”

Harry summons up his most winning smile. It’s pretty damn winning, if he does say so himself. “Why don’t you come sit here and ensure I stay upright?” he suggests, patting the space between his legs for emphasis. It would probably have been more effective if he didn’t finish tipping over, landing with his nose in the pile of blankets.

“Ow,” he says plaintively. It didn’t actually hurt but Louis is bound to feel sorry for him if he pretends it had, right? Right. This is the best plan Harry has ever come up with.

The only noise in the room for a few seconds is Niall and Zayn still fucking arguing about the leprechauns. Harry wants to look up and see if Louis is feeling appropriately sorry for him yet. But if he does that it’ll be obvious it’s a hoax and then Louis definitely won’t sit.

“You’re still not cute,” Louis says, but he’s hauling Harry back up into a sitting position and settling down between his legs.

Harry beams, nuzzling into the back of Louis’ head. His hair is so soft and smells so good. He definitely stole the soap and Harry doesn’t even care, that’s how good it smells. “I am cute,” he protests through a mouthful of hair. No one’s paying attention to him, though. Niall is digging through Harry’s desk, Liam is already sprawled out in a different corner, laughing to himself about something, and Zayn is producing another bottle of rum out of a pocket in his jacket.

Harry beams some more. He loves Zayn’s ability to make alcohol appear. It’s so nice. Zayn’s the best.

“I’m glad you think so,” Zayn says sagely, which is the only reason Harry realizes he’d been talking out loud. Hopefully he didn’t say the stuff he was thinking about Louis’ hair.

“You did,” Louis says. “And I stole the soap from you so you can stop going on about it.”

Oh, that explains it. It did smell awfully familiar. Carefully, Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and hugs him loosely, resisting the urge to squeeze. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance Louis is going to slap him away.

Louis doesn’t slap him away. All he does is lay his hands over Harry’s, holding them there. The touch makes Harry’s chest warm. “You are a really affectionate drunk,” Louis says. He sounds like he’s happy about it. “You’re going to hate yourself for this in the morning.”

“Harry’s always been an affectionate drunk,” Liam says, sitting upright at well. Harry wants to applaud him for it, only he’s not sure his hands are working right now. “This one time in Cape Town he tried curling up with this big burly bartender and he almost got his head taken off. He was lucky the guy’s girlfriend was there and thought he was just a cute little puppy who wanted to be petted.”

“He is a cute little puppy who just wants to be petted,” Zayn croons, taking a seat beside Harry and ruffling his hair. Harry beams even harder, bumping his head against Zayn’s hand. He loves being petted, especially by Zayn. Zayn is so good at petting.

“Petting,” Harry mumbles, eyes drooping. “So nice.”

Glass clinks. It’s confusing for a second, until Harry remembers there’s another bottle of rum.

Ooh. There’s another bottle of rum!

“My turn,” Harry says, making grabby hands for the bottle.

Louis elbows him back, tipping the mouth of the bottle up to his lips and swallowing gracefully. “You’ve had more than enough, you lush.”

Harry pouts, resting his forehead against the nape of Louis’ neck. His skin is so soft and nice smelling. Harry zones out for a few minutes, just breathing in the scent of Louis. By the time he starts paying attention again Louis is laughing at something Niall is saying, relaxed in Harry’s arms. Emboldened by the lack of attention Louis is paying to him, Harry slips two fingers underneath the hem of Louis’ shirt, resting them on his warm bare belly.

Louis doesn’t say anything. Score.

“It sounds like you’ve had a lot of adventures together,” Louis says to the room at large.

“Aye,” Liam agrees, taking a long swig from the bottle. He’s been hogging it for the past five minutes at least, Harry’s pretty sure. No one seems to want to pass it to Harry. “No matter where we are in the world I know these guys will always have my back. And they know I would do the same for them.”

“Aww, Leeyum,” Niall cries, hug tackling Liam. They crash onto the floor with an audible bang, rolling around until they slam into Zayn and take him down.

It devolves from there. Somehow Harry gets pulled into it, which means that Louis gets pulled into it, and they roll around on the floor for a while, getting dust all over themselves. It lasts right up until Louis shrieks for them to stop.

He’s got an ear piercing shriek, that one.

They settle back into the positions they had more or less been in before, Louis sitting cross-legged between Harry’s legs, keeping him upright. Harry feels much more sober than he did before but he’s not going to say that and risk Louis moving away.

“So tell me how you all met, then,” Louis says, lifting Harry’s hand from between his thighs and moving it to a more appropriate place. “Harry told me that he and Liam knew each other before he became Captain of _The Sparrow_ but he never said how you two met. Or how any of you met, really.”

“Well Liam and I met first,” Harry starts, drawling the words out unintentionally slowly. He talks even slower when he’s been drinking.

Liam cuts him off, used to it. “We were aboard _The Great Yearning_ together. It was first job either of us ever really had and it was on a pirate ship. We were both young, the two youngest members of the crew so naturally we kind of stuck together at first, watched each others backs. You should have seen him, though, all gangly limbs and chubby cheeks. He went around charming the pants off all the other crew members and got us extra food and drink all the time.”

Harry reaches out and pats Liam’s knee. “Don’t sell yourself short, Li, while I was charming the cook into giving us extra food you were going around stealing us extra coins so we could get our own ship one day. I was just the distraction.”

“Wait, so if Liam was the one earning extra money how did Harry end up being the Captain?” Louis asks, leaning forward.

“It’s the charm,” Harry says sagely. “Plus Liam just doesn’t like being the bad guy.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Liam continues, “Once we had enough money stashed away between the two of us we bailed and got ourselves a gig on a bigger ship. We were older by that time so we didn’t get stuck with the shitty duties we had before, and we kept working our way up until we had the skills needed to run a ship. Then it was just a matter of getting a ship, and we managed that by accident, really.”

That had been a good night. One of the best of Harry’s life - getting an actual ship out of a bet, getting him and Liam into a place they wanted to be. It’s a fond memory.

“And the others?” Louis asks. He’s very invested in this. Harry likes that.

“Well, Zayn we already knew from one of the other ships,” Liam says. “He was a forger in England and he’d make us fake papers and stuff, whatever we needed to seem legitimate. He was a natural choice for a crew member.”

“Found me drunk in a bar,” Niall pipes up. “Or at least they thought I was drunk. I was really trying to cheat a group of guys out of their money playing blackjack.”

Intrigued, Louis asks, “Did you win?”

Niall scoffs. “Course I won. Took ‘em for over a thousand gold pieces and made off with them before they realized what happened. Ran into these guys outside and took them up on their offer of joining their crew.”

“Just like that?” Louis asks. Leans back into Harry’s chest. He fits there so perfectly, so little and warm and good smelling. Smells like he wants Harry to bite him a little. Harry can do that.

Later, though, after the boys have left.

“Pretty much,” Harry answers, sliding his fingers back underneath Louis’ shirt again. “The people you see sitting in this room are the first crew members of _The Wandering Sparrow_. My most trusted comrades.”

“You’re disgustingly sincere when you’ve been drinking,” Louis says, pinching at the back of Harry’s wrist. “Please shut up before you say anything else to embarrass yourself.”

Harry beams. That sounds an awful lot like _you’re a cute drunk_ to him.

 

In the morning, Harry wakes up with a splitting headache and only vague memories of last night. The boys are all in similar states, sprawled around the room. None of them manage to make it out the door and onto the deck for more than an hour.

Louis is neither subtle nor quiet about laughing at them.

 

Once the hangover has subsided - which takes half a day and a ton of water - Harry takes Louis onto the island. Neither of them speak more than a few words of Greek but they do a little shopping, crowding each other as they peruse an outdoor market, buying little bits of things to eat as they walk.

Then, once the sun has gotten low enough in the sky that it’s going to start setting soon, Harry buys a blanket and leads them to a secluded section of a beach, one awash with driftwood and seaweed. They have to kick most of it away before they can set the blanket down, and then, once they’re settled, Louis’ back to Harry’s chest, watching the sunset together, Louis says quietly, “If you’re not careful I’m going to think you’re trying to woo me, Captain Styles.” Taps Harry’s hand for emphasis.

Harry keeps his gaze fixed on the sunset. It’s really quite beautiful, pinks and blues and oranges meshing together to create a gorgeous sight. Reds start seeping into it before it’s fully set, and Harry relaxes a little. They aren’t setting sail tomorrow but a red sunset is always a good omen.

“I’m not wooing you,” Harry says, keeping his fingers relaxed and loose against Louis’ belly. 

Louis doesn’t stiffen against him, which Harry can only take as a good sign. “So what are we doing, then?” he asks without turning around. “A week ago you were adamant that we could never have sex again, and now we’re here, lying on a beach in Greece. And your cock is digging into my back.”

Harry breathes in evenly. “We’re just having fun,” he says. “Whatever happens happens.”

At that, Louis does turn around, twisting in Harry’s arms until they’re looking each other in the face. “You’re as full of shit right now as you were when you told me you weren’t going to be the first to take me,” he says just as calmly as Harry had. “Whatever we’re doing right now, it’s not casual and it’s definitely not _whatever happens happens_.”

Harry opens his mouth to respond. He doesn’t know what’s going to come out, whether it’ll help his case or hurt it, but it doesn’t matter. Louis presses a finger against his lips, shaking his head. “You can tell yourself whatever you need to make this easier,” he says. “When you catch up I’m still going to be here.”

He pushes up onto his knees and adds, “But for now - ” and strips his shirt over his head, flinging it into the sand carelessly.

It’s probably meant to be an invitation to maul him. For some reason, Harry croaks out, “For now?” instead of making a move.

Harry’s brain is slow sometimes.

Louis rolls his eyes, peeling his trousers down his thighs and laying back against the blanket. “For now,” he repeats, wiggling his fingers in Harry’s direction. “Why don’t you come here and prove to me how much of an alpha you are.”

Well, with a dare like that Harry really can’t refuse. He crashes down on top of Louis without any further delay, not even letting him kick his trousers all the way off, and kisses him hard. Deep, lingering, tongues sliding together. Kissing Louis is so good, so soft, so sweet. He tastes like strawberries, lips plush and velvety underneath Harry’s, only barely yielding to Harry’s force. Gives as good as he’s getting, pushing back, up underneath Harry’s body, trying to line them up so they can grind together.

Carefully, Harry wraps his fingers around Louis’ hips and pins them to the blanket. “Stay still,” he says firmly.

“Make me,” is Louis’ immediate response. 

Harry can do that. Harry can more than do that, and to prove it he lifts up and flips Louis over onto his belly, holding him down with one hand in the middle of his back and using the other to strip his trousers all the way off.

Louis is wet already, slick and warm to the touch as Harry slips two fingers between his arse cheeks and rubs over his hole firmly. “Shouldn’t challenge an alpha like that, little omega,” he murmurs into the back of Louis’ neck, scraping his teeth over the baby fine skin there gently.

“Why?” Louis demands shakily. “What are you going to do about it?” 

Such backtalk from such a well rounded individual. Harry gives him a slap on the arse for his sass, reveling in the way Louis shivers full body and falls silent.

If he had have known it’d be that easy to make Louis quiet Harry would have been doing this a long time ago.

He doesn’t answer, slipping down Louis’ back silently instead, until he’s greeted with the breath stealing sight of Louis completely exposed to him, hole wet and slippery, nearly begging to be touched.

Harry touches him. With his tongue, specifically.

“Oh,” Louis breathes, squirming weakly against the blanket. “That’s. Harry.”

A single lick and he turns into putty. Harry’s going to have to eat him out more often if this is always going to be his reaction.

“Be quiet, little omega,” Harry murmurs, spreading Louis’ cheeks wider, exposing more of him. Then he really gets into it, licking at Louis’ hole until his jaw is sore and all he can taste is strawberries and Louis. Above his head, Louis is making desperate little noises, half bitten off, hips moving frantically as he tries to fuck his cock against the blanket. He must be so hard, pretty little omega, ready to come.

Harry’s nothing if not a gracious alpha. He wiggles his left hand underneath Louis’ belly until he can wrap his fingers around Louis’ cock, give him something with a firmer grip to fuck into. Louis’ noises get a little higher in pitch, hole fluttering against Harry’s tongue, allowing him to slip inside, and then Louis comes, spurting warm and thick over Harry’s fingers.

What a good little omega. Harry would tell him so but his mouth is otherwise occupied, busy trying to loosen Louis enough for his cock.

It doesn’t take much, actually. Louis is slurring out words Harry doesn’t quite catch, words that have a slight begging quality to them, which must mean he’s ready.

Christ, Harry hopes he’s ready.

He fingers him open quickly, barely withdrawing his tongue, using only two fingers, and then, once Harry’s cock is so hard he can’t wait anymore, knot threatening to pop despite the lack of stimulus, he pushes himself up onto his knees and fumbles with his trousers, freeing his cock and sinking into Louis’ hole in one not so smooth motion.

“Baby,” Harry sighs, finally enveloped in tight warm perfect heat. Strawberries practically explode into all of his senses, juicy and tart, under ripe.

“Alpha,” Louis slurs back, probably only doing it because he wants Harry’s knot and he wants it right now. Either way, he gets it, knot expanding until it’s locked. He comes again while that’s happening but Harry mostly misses it, too caught up in the pleasure he’s feeling himself.

It feels like his spine is draining straight out of his cock when Harry starts coming. The only thing he can do is mouth helplessly at the back of Louis’ neck, biting every so often, pulling Louis’ hips up a bit so the angle is better for him and then just holding on to Louis’ cock, hoping the friction will be enough that Louis can come as many times as he wants to. Harry’s almost incapable of paying attention to anything but this feeling, right here and right now.

Minutes pass, lost in that haze. It takes a while before Harry’s knot has gone down enough to slip out, and Louis is almost asleep against him.

He’s so good, so perfect. Maybe this thing between them can work.

Harry eases out slowly, gathering the edges of the blanket and wrapping them up the best he can, making sure Louis is entirely covered. The sun has fully set and the temperature is going down - it’s important to stay warm.

There’s sand everywhere, sticking to every single part of Harry’s body. He doesn’t even have the energy to care.

 

Making it back to the ship is hard, but they make it. Harry feels sex stupid and by the looks of it Louis isn’t much better, and as soon as they’re in Harry’s cabin Louis is falling back asleep, mouth open against one of the blankets and drooling a bit.

Christ, Harry is so attracted to him.

 

 

Sleep only lasts a few hours before Harry is roused by Louis’ squirming. It’s not his usual _wanna get fucked_ squirming, which is confusing, as it’s still dark outside, weak moonlight shining in through the window.

“What’re you doing?” Harry asks groggily, keeping his voice low. The night around them is still, quiet.

Louis also goes still. He’s sitting up against a wall, bent over something in his lap. Upon closer examination, his fingers are ink stained and there’s paper in his lap. He’s been writing something.

For a minute, Harry thinks Louis is going to lie, or change the subject. Find a way to avoid answering the question.

“Writing a letter,” Louis says eventually. “To my family. Letting them know that I’m safe. And happy.”

 _Happy_. He’s happy.

“Louis,” Harry says dumbly. It’s all he can think of to say.

Louis looks over at him, meets his gaze head on. Candlelight flickers across his face, hiding his deepest expressions. “You’re surprised,” he observes evenly.

Harry blinks. Doesn’t answer. There’s a soft smile curving across Louis’ face, one that doesn’t fade as he pushes himself up and takes the two necessary steps to climb into Harry’s lap, settling down easily. He pushes his hands into Harry’s hair, digging his fingernails into his scalp. It feels absurdly good, like the best kind of massage, and Harry’s own hands are flying up to grip at Louis’ forearms before he even thinks about it. Not to pull him away, no, just to make sure he isn’t going to pull away on his own.

“You shouldn’t be surprised that you make me happy, Captain Styles,” Louis murmurs, whispering the words into Harry’s mouth. They’re close enough to kiss. “Wouldn’t have worked this hard to stay if that wasn’t the case.”

At the back of his brain, there’s a niggling thought about the thing Louis had said the first time they had sex. He hasn’t said it since, hasn’t let it slip, and it must have just been the heat of the moment, but - 

No, it had to have only been the heat of the moment. Right?

“Want me family to know that I’m with someone who would sacrifice his own life to keep me safe,” Louis continues, still raking his fingernails across Harry’s scalp. It’s distracting, heat prickling through Harry’s spine as a direct result of the sensation. “The girls must be missing me, don’t want my parents to worry anymore.”

He shrugs, bare shoulder moving in a way Harry can’t tear his eyes from. He’s still naked, beautifully so, and he smells of Harry and sex and sweat and come and.

“You’ll never be safe here,” Harry says. His tongue feels thick with want, head a little dazed. He probably can’t even get it up again right now, exhaustion swimming through his veins, but his body wants. Wants Louis all the time, even when it’s impossible to have him.

Louis regards him evenly. “Are you trying to tell me that you wouldn’t stand between me and a blade?” he asks. Harry almost flinches, but doesn’t. Flinching would give him away.

“That isn’t the point,” he snaps. Tightens his fingers on Louis’ arms, feels the flex of his muscles underneath his hands.

“It is, though,” Louis says. “I am safe with you, and even if I wasn’t you would do your damnedest to ensure that no harm befell me. I chose this, Harry, and the only thing you could do to make me change my mind is hurt me. And your very _nature_ will prevent you from doing that, so.” He shrugs again.

There’s too much logic in Louis’ words for Harry to be able to refute them. He can’t make choices for Louis, can’t make him change his mind, not when he’s so set on this. So set on Harry.

And to be perfectly honest, Harry doesn’t want to.

“My mother died when I was seven years old,” he says abruptly. “It started with a fever and vomiting, and we didn’t realize what it was at first. She spent almost two weeks suffering, and we did what we could to make her comfortable, to help her get better, but in the end it didn’t matter. Nothing we did mattered, and the disease took her.”

Harry has to stop to swallow, the memories painful even after all of this time, even after they’ve faded. Atop him, Louis is still, hands still buried in Harry’s hair, watching him speak. “My father, he tried to take care of us after that, but he was one man with two children to look after and grief in his heart. It was hard for him, too hard. He was going to take us across the ocean, find a better life and escape from the memories, but.”

Another pause for a breath. Gently, Louis rubs his thumb underneath Harry’s eye, and it takes that movement for Harry to realize that his tears have spilled over. “You don’t have to,” Louis says quietly.

Harry presses a kiss to the inside of Louis’ wrist. No, he doesn’t have to. But, for the first time in a very long time, he wants to.

“He paid for our voyage with the last money we had,” Harry continues, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ bare hips. “Thought it was going to be better, that it had to be better. Right up until the ship we were on got raided.”

Harry hasn’t told this story that many times, but he’s told it enough that he knows where to pause for dramatic effect. It makes it easier, concentrating on the story telling aspect rather than the actual memories themselves. It’s taken a lot of effort to have them stop being the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up in the morning.

“They were killed,” Harry says, closing his eyes. “My father and my sister, right in front of me. The only reason I was spared is because I was young and healthy and a boy.”

Images flash across Harry’s closed eyelids, too quick to linger on any one of them. Luckily.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says. He smells like he wants to kiss Harry, and for some reason that eases the ache in Harry’s chest a little. 

Opening his eyes is easier than Harry expected it to be. “Eight months I spent aboard that ship, thinking of ways to get myself off of it, or, failing that, to murder everyone on it. Didn’t matter to me that there were other innocent people on it, _kids_ , if it meant I could avenge my family’s deaths.”

Louis licks his lips slowly. “That’s understandable,” he says. “I can’t even imagine what I would have done in that situation.”

“I was so angry for so long,” Harry says, pressing his forehead against Louis’. “I - it wasn’t even a relief when we were raided by a different ship. My anger fueled me. The only thing I wanted was to get back to that ship and take the life of every person who contributed to that raid.”

He stops again to take a deep, shuddery breath. Repeats, “It took a long time for me to let go of that anger. If I hadn’t met Liam I don’t know what I would have done. I probably wouldn’t have survived.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says, holding Harry’s face between his hands. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t have to tell me any more.” He kisses Harry then, just a soft, lingering brush of lips. It isn’t even sexual, the kiss. Comforting, is what it is.

Louis has to know, though. Has to. Harry pulls back and puts his hands up between Louis’ to hold his face steady. They must look ridiculous, sitting here holding each other’s faces like this. Any other moment and Harry might be able to spare a second to laugh.

“I trust you,” Harry whispers. “You might turn out to be the worst decision I’ve ever made but I trust you.”

Louis’ inhale is a little shuddery. “I won’t be,” he promises.

It’s strange how easy it is to believe him.

 

They dock in the nearest port city to pick up supplies and possibly a couple of new crew members. Niall has some connections here, knows a lot of people. He has a few in mind who he says will make good additions to the crew. Harry trusts his judgment and his ability to recruit them, so he leaves him to it.

It doesn’t take long to get the supplies on Harry’s portion of the list. As always, it’s been split equally between him and Liam, and from there they delegate to the rest of the crew. It’s a system that works for them.

Harry’s not even that distracted by Louis’ absence, not at first. While he doesn’t like that Louis goes off by himself sometimes he deals with it. There’s a saying that an alpha’s instincts will tell them if their omega is in trouble and Harry hopes to never find out whether it’s true or not. He thinks it is. 

He’s expecting Louis to meet them back on the ship - he hadn’t made a request to find an inn before he had disappeared, which Harry takes to mean they’ll be sleeping in their regular quarters. Supplies in hand, Harry heads back to the dock, head down whenever he passes anyone who looks like they may be an authority figure. The southern hemisphere isn’t particularly friendly to pirates at the moment.

Almost all the way back to the ship, Harry stops short. On the post in front of him there’s a few wanted posters hanging, one of which is emblazoned with Harry’s name. Now, that’s not really a surprise - he isn’t the most notable pirate, not by a long shot, but he and the crew do pretty well for themselves. They’ve stolen a substantial amount of goods and treasures over the past few years.

What is a surprise is the rather graphic drawing plastered across said poster.

For a minute, Harry just stares at it. He doesn’t have to squint to recognize the anatomy on it. “Little brat,” he mutters to himself, tearing the poster down and shoving it under his arm before continuing on his way.

In the distance between Harry and the ship, he finds another twelve posters with roughly the same drawing on them. Harry rolls his eyes as he plucks each one off its post, collecting them. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do with them, only that he’s going to confront Louis about them. See if he has an explanation for why he’s going around drawing dicks all over Harry’s face.

Harry strides up to the ship and boards easily, handing off the supplies to Danny to sort through. Louis must be back by now. Harry can smell the faint scent of strawberries hanging in the air, fresh and sweet even in the cool sea breeze.

As expected, Louis is lounging in the cabin with the door wide open, entire body covered by a blanket with only his head poking out. He’s got a book in his hands but he’s not reading, only pretending to. Harry can see right through him.

Clearly those posters were meant for Harry to find.

“You want to explain this to me?” Harry asks, holding up one of the posters, letting the others go fluttering to the ground.

Louis looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Not really.”

Once upon a time, a long time ago, Harry had the hope that giving in and fucking Louis would curb his desire to mess with Harry. Needless to say, that hasn’t been the case. Louis is still as irritating and annoying and lovely as always.

“Let me rephrase,” Harry says. “Why are you drawing cocks all over my face?”

Louis doesn’t even blink. He’s irritatingly hard to shake sometimes. The only tried and true method so far has been with sex. “How do you know it was me? It could have been anyone. A street urchin, an old lady with a hatred for pirates, a middle-aged man with nothing better to do. One of your crew who hates you.”

“First of all, none of my crew hates me,” Harry counters. “Second, I can smell you all over these papers. Did you kiss them or something?”

At that, Louis blinks. He looks a little offended. Good. Harry is also a little offended. “Why would I kiss a terrible drawing of your face when I could just kiss your actual face instead?”

It must not be what he meant to say, because he starts to go a little pink around the cheeks. It shouldn’t get to Harry like this, not after all this time, but it’s all it takes to make him drop it. He has better things to do than interrogate Louis about his intentions. Like Louis. He wants to do Louis.

Also continuing this line of questioning will inevitably only lead to even more dicks being drawn on Harry’s face in the future. Maybe even dicks being drawn on his actual face. The last thing Harry needs is his crew laughing at him when he gets up in the morning because Louis has defaced him.

“Why don’t you show me how you would kiss my actual face,” Harry suggests. Somehow, it’s a line that works.

 

They don’t often eat just the two of them, Harry and Louis. Most of the time they eat with the crew, and sometimes they don’t even eat at the same table. Louis likes to make the rounds and chat with everyone, spreading tall tales about his life as a prince, whereas Harry sits in his designated spot and surveys his kingdom. Or something like that. Harry just worked very hard to be able to have the most comfortable chair in every room and he’s not going to give up that privilege just because his omega likes to bounce around.

Today, though, they’re eating in Harry’s cabin with the door closed, just the two of them because the crew got tired of their fighting and barricaded them from entering the kitchen at all. Niall had the food brought up to Harry’s cabin and not a single member of the crew has been seen since.

Harry and Louis also haven’t exchanged a single word since the meal began. They’ve been fighting for so long now Harry actually forgets what they were fighting about in the first place. He only knows that it’s Louis’ fault and he’s not going to be the one apologizing. Not a chance in hell. Even if it means he has to sit through this painfully silent meal across from Louis. He’s not going to apologize.

The meal is good, if simple. Rice and fresh fish, which is a nice change from the diet they’ve been on the past couple of weeks. Harry’s focused on it, shoveling bites of food into his mouth. He notices when Louis stands up, but he doesn’t pay much attention to him. He’s probably just going to throw a fit about something Harry doesn’t even remember doing.

Except then Louis is suddenly at Harry’s side, grabbing his knife from where it’s lying on the table, arm coming towards Harry’s face. Harry reacts instantly, surging up out of his seat and grabbing Louis’ arm, bending it until his fingers open, letting the knife clatter to the floor.

“What are you doing?” they demand at the same time. Harry’s gaze is drawn to the table, where his knife is still lying, exactly where he put it in the first place.

“You - ” he starts, gaze swinging down to the floor next, where the spoon from Harry’s place setting is lying.

“You thought I was going to stab you, didn’t you,” Louis says.

“I thought you were going to _try_ to stab me,” Harry corrects. It would probably be a good idea to drop Louis’ arm now.

He doesn’t.

“It’s starting to seem like a good idea,” Louis mutters, choosing to ignore Harry’s insinuation. “Let me go.”

Harry’s instincts kick in, demanding that he keep his grip, tighten it. Use his strength until Louis yields to him, submits.

He lets go and takes a step back. He’s never going to be the alpha who uses his biology to get their omega to submit during a fight. He’s never going to break Louis’ trust like that. Not unless it was a life or death situation.

Louis sighs, rubbing at his wrist absently. It can’t be hurting him, not really. Harry’s pretty sure he wasn’t gripping him that hard. “You know why fighting with you is the worst?” he asks conversationally. “I can fucking _smell_ exactly how noble you’re being.”

Harry blinks. “What?”

Like he’s gathering up his annoyance, Louis shoves at Harry’s chest with both hands. “You fucking heard me, you dick. When we fight all I can smell is how much you want to shove me down over a table and fuck me quiet. Think I don’t fucking know what you smell like when you want to do that?”

Again, Harry blinks. “What?”

Louis groans, all the fight leaving him so fast Harry’s head practically spins. He slips his hands up around Harry’s shoulders, linking his fingers behind his neck. “This is why we can’t have a fight like a normal couple,” he tells Harry, pulling him back so he can hop up onto the table. “Whenever you get all angry and alpha-y you make me so wet I can’t even concentrate anymore.”

Christ. Harry sags forward, into the vee of Louis’ thighs, unable to stop himself from inhaling. Louis does smell like slick, so strongly Harry has no idea how he’d missed it earlier. “Every time?” he asks, wrapping his hands around Louis’ thighs and pulling them farther apart.

“Every time,” Louis says, breathy quality to his voice that betrays his arousal just as much as his slick does. “You should know that by now.”

“Does that mean you’re sorry?” Harry asks him, digging his fingers in, feeling the smooth expanse of Louis’ skin through his trousers.

Louis reaches down between them with one hand, palming at Harry’s crotch. “About as sorry as you are.”

It’s as good as an apology. It’s as much of an apology as Harry’s words were, and they were probably equally to blame for this fight. Most of the time they work well together but when their tempers spark they really spark. Harry foresees some pretty epic fights in their future.

Right now he’s more concerned about the lack of mouth against mouth contact they have going on. He rectifies that immediately, licking into Louis’ mouth as deep as he can, nearly making contact with his tonsils. Louis kisses back even more frantically, thighs locking around Harry’s waist. His hand gets trapped between their bodies but he doesn’t let that stop him, squeezing at Harry’s cock relentlessly. This is going to be fast and dirty for the both of them. There’s no time for slow, sensual sex right now.

“Baby,” Harry hisses, biting at Louis’ bottom lip, “baby, you know I would normally give you prep but this time - ”

Louis shakes his head quickly, dislodging Harry long enough to peel himself out of his shirt. “I’m ready,” he says. “Don’t need it, Harry, promise. ‘m ready.”

He’s probably not. If Harry took him right now it would hurt, ache. Louis would probably like it.

Harry’s not going to let that happen. He has to give Louis at least some prep, no matter how brief it is. Isn’t going to risk hurting him.

“You’re a liar,” Harry tells him, kissing him again before he draws back enough to let them both strip out of the rest of their clothes. Then he can slip a hand around behind Louis’ back to get at his bum, slipping two fingers between his cheeks, instantly getting soaked. He’s plenty wet enough for two fingers, so that’s what Harry gives him, going a little slower than he normally would to make sure.

They slip inside of him easily, so wet he opens up for Harry as though it’s nothing, spreading to create space inside his body for Harry to fit. It’s enough, more than enough for Harry to be confident that whatever ache he causes by knotting Louis now will be more than outweighed by the pleasure.

“So wet for me, baby,” Harry tells him approvingly, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his cock in one smooth motion, practically lifting Louis off the table entirely as he slides inside. Like every other time, Louis is tight and wet and warm, the perfect fit, and Harry almost loses himself in it, just that first slide.

Their fights always end up like this eventually. All roads lead to sex between them, and during times like this, lost in the sensations, the pleasure, Harry has to wonder how he ever managed to resist Louis for as long as he did. _Why_ he ever wanted to resist Louis at all. There’s no better feeling in the world than this. It’s a physical impossibility.

“Harry,” Louis is saying, repeating Harry’s name over and over again as Harry fucks him with short, hard thrusts, sending him skidding up the table every time. Harry makes a noise almost like a snarl, hauling him back down. Can’t let him escape, not right now. Not before Harry has knotted him full.

Louis’ hands are nearly gentle on his back, stroking over his shoulders. He’s comforting him, Harry realizes eventually, letting him know that everything is okay, that Louis isn’t trying to go anywhere.

It’s all Harry needs in order to let go. He barely even remembers the rest of the knotting, only knows that Louis gets off a few times. It doesn’t matter how many, as long as Louis feels good, and that’s the only thing Harry knows for sure right now, that Louis feels good. That Louis is feeling good.

That’s all that matters. Their petty fight doesn’t matter, not when they can talk to each other like this, this subconscious, primal communication. Right now, this is all that matters.

Louis is all that matters.

 

“Come on, then,” Harry says, beckoning with two fingers. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He’s shirtless and sweaty and done with his sword. He throws it on the ground, a safe distance away, and watches as Louis does the same. Now they’re really talking.

Louis makes the first move, sliding quick and easy over the slick wood under his feet and bringing his knee up to strike Harry’s thigh. Harry blocks him, counters with a jab of his own. It makes contact with Louis’ shoulder, sends him spinning around. Before Harry can think about his next move Louis is striking back, slamming his elbow into the back of Harry’s shoulder. It’s a hard, powerful strike, nearly has Harry’s knees buckling.

“Good,” Harry gasps, straightening back up just in time to catch the punch Louis throws at him, yanking him around so his back is to Harry’s chest. Pins Louis’ arms against his chest and hauls him up so his feet are off the ground. “But you’ll have to do better.”

For a second, Louis dangles in his grip, toes straining to reach the deck. “Okay,” he agrees, finding his balance and getting his arms over Harry’s somehow, and then - 

Then he flips them.

Harry lands on his back, gazing up at the blue sky. He gasps for breath, ache already blooming in his shoulder from how he’d landed. It disorients him long enough to allow Louis to straddle his hips, pressing his forearm against Harry’s throat. “Yield.”

Harry tests the strength of Louis’ stance, wincing when his arm digs into his neck deeper. It’s a good stance, strong, one with few weak points. Louis has come a long way from the omega who used to rely on his looks to get him out of precarious positions. His looks will still serve him well, especially with Harry, but there’s no need for him to resort to them anymore. He knows how to fight now, knows how to use his body as a weapon, how to get himself out of most trouble he gets himself into.

It’s just that Harry will always have the advantage of more years of experience at his back. He could allow Louis to win this round, admit defeat. But those few weak points in Louis’ stance aren’t going to serve him well in a real fight.

“That was good,” Harry tells him, his voice a touch wheezy from how hard Louis is pressing down. “But you forgot that my strength lies in my upper body, and the way you’re pinning my arms is not effective.”

To prove his point, he shoves his arms out of the hold, going for the insides of Louis’ thighs to push them farther apart. Louis makes a noise of surprise, arm loosening against Harry’s throat, and that’s all the space Harry needs to make his move. He rears up, sending Louis scuttling backwards, but he’s not fast enough. Harry grabs him by the ankle and pulls him back in, flipping him over onto his belly and pinning him there with his entire body.

It’s an intimate position, one that would have the crew laughing and hooting at them if they dared. They don’t, and it’s not because of Harry.

“You always forget to account for the differences in our body mass,” Harry says, keeping Louis’ upper body pinned to the deck with his shoulders. “You’re never going to win like that.”

Beneath him, Louis goes lithe and liquidy, clearly submitting. In a quiet voice, one that’s clearly not meant to be overheard by any of the crew, he says, “I don’t forget.”

Briefly, Harry considers the possibility that Louis is only saying that to get underneath his skin. It wouldn’t be a new tactic, and Harry has always told him to use every weapon in his arsenal to win the fight.

Louis smells like submission, though, and scent isn’t easy to fake. Still, Harry doesn’t let up as he responds, “It doesn’t seem that way to me, little prince.”

For emphasis, he digs his fingers into Louis’ wrists where he’s holding them still. Only the tiniest shudder runs through Louis in response.

“I forget a bit,” Louis acknowledges, “but mostly I let you do it.”

Affronted, Harry frowns down at the back of Louis’ head. That’s not true. In fact, that’s a blatant lie. Harry has years of hand-to-hand combat behind him - he knows how to effectively win a fight and how to do it quickly. In a real fight he could take Louis down in no time at all. It’s not even a question.

“You do not.”

Louis shrugs, the motion tiny due to Harry still pinning him. “Not consciously, no. But subconsciously I think I do. My brain recognizes you as my alpha and wants me to give in to you.”

“Your brain wants you to submit to me while we’re sparring?” Harry repeats incredulously.

“Not exactly,” Louis says. “My instincts want me stop fighting with you, I guess, and try to convince me to make that happen however I can. Usually by tricking me into getting distracted by you.”

Harry sits up, giving Louis the space to do the same. “So what you’re saying is that we’re never going to have a fair fight, then.” He’s still sure that he could beat Louis in a fair fight.

Louis shoots him a smile over his shoulder, white and gleaming in the sun. He’s fixing his shirt carefully, smoothing it back into place. “No,” he agrees. “But since when do pirates fight fair?”

He has a point. Harry concedes it with a slight nod of his head, and he should be expecting it when Louis lunges back at him abruptly, but he’s not.

Still manages to get Louis into a good position to snog him, though. So basically Harry does win.

 

 

“Tell me something,” Harry says abruptly. They’re lying together in the sticky heat of Harry’s cabin, naked skin against naked skin, and they only finished having sex about an hour ago. Louis had taken a short nap afterwards, and he’s more or less awake now, drawing idle circles with his finger on Harry’s shoulders.

“Mm,” Louis responds, mouth moving slowly against Harry’s skin. It’s too lazy to be a kiss, too gentle to be a bite. It’s something in between.

Harry’s heart is pounding in his chest. He has no idea how Louis hasn’t felt it yet. And he must not have felt it, because if he had he definitely would have commented on it. Louis doesn’t hold his tongue at the best of times, and after sex he’ll say whatever random thing crosses his mind.

“That first time we had sex, do you remember what you said?” Harry asks.

Louis’ finger comes to a halt on Harry’s skin. “I said a lot of things that night.”

Breathe. As long as Harry keeps breathing he’ll be fine. “You said one specific thing.”

As if he’s determined to seem normal, Louis resumes his motion. It’s shakier than before. “Aye.” 

He sounds like a proper pirate. It’s not something he learned from Harry.

“Did you mean it?”

Again, Louis’ finger stops. This time, he doesn’t resume the motion. Instead, he pushes himself up onto his elbow, leaning over Harry and looking down at him. He looks as nervous as Harry feels. “Why are you asking me this, Harry?” he demands. “If you’ve reverted to wanting to take me back to England I’m going to steal your ship and maroon you on the most inhospitable island I can find.”

Harry reaches up to curl his fingers around Louis’ wrist. “That’s not why I’m asking.”

Louis’ throat bobs as he swallows. The unspoken meaning of Harry’s statement passes between them, tension hanging in the air. The silence drags on, meaningful and thick. Harry wants to know what it means, _needs_ to know what it means. If Louis meant it or not. If it was the heat of the moment the way Harry originally thought.

“Mostly,” Louis says finally. Harry blinks up at him. _Mostly_? What does mostly even mean in this context? Mostly is not a proper answer to the question Harry is posing here.

“Louis,” Harry says, a little helpless. He doesn’t know what to say to convey how important this is to him.

Louis shakes his head slowly, pressing his finger against Harry’s lips. “Mostly,” he repeats, firmer this time. “I knew the type of man you were, knew who you were, even then, and our chemistry was so strong, and I knew that I wanted you for the rest of my life. So in that context, yes, I meant it.”

That doesn’t do anything to clear up Harry’s confusion.

“I loved what I knew of you,” Louis continues. “I loved that you would go to the ends of the Earth to protect me, that you wanted what you thought was best for me, even if I disagreed with you about the specifics. But if you’re asking me whether what I feel for you now is the same as what I felt for you back then, the answer is no.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ finger away from his lips. He doesn’t know how to feel about this conversation.

Louis smiles. “What it means, Captain Styles, is that now I know your flaws, your insecurities, your hurt. I know that when it comes to me you’re endlessly frustrated by your inability to be rational, I know that you struggle to let me put myself in harm’s way but you manage it, I know that sometimes you’re confused about the way your biology would have you treat me and the way your brain wants to treat me. I know who you are, now, and the depth of my feelings for you are so much stronger than I ever could have imagined. So yes, Harry, I’m in love with you.”

All Harry can manage is a single, solitary blink.

“You asked,” Louis says, shrugging. His smile doesn’t dim even a shade, as though he knows that Harry needs a second to process this, the declaration that Louis is in love with him.

It’s not news. It still feels like it is.

“Prince Louis William Tomlinson,” Harry whispers, tangling their fingers together against his chest, “I am very much in love with you too.”

It’s nowhere near as eloquent as Louis’ speech had been, but it gets the point across. Louis’ smile brightens by about a thousand degrees, and they meet in the middle to kiss.

They don’t leave the bed for a long time.

 

 

Generally, Harry loves being aboard his ship. He loves the feeling of the wind in his face, the sun in his eyes, the smell of the sea in his nose. He loves the exhilaration that runs through his veins when they’re conducting a raid, the camaraderie of his crew, their ability to work together as a seamless unit in order to obtain their goal.

Generally.

After two fortnights of non-stop sailing, cramped together in close quarters, forty men sweating and getting steadily more crabby as each day passes, Harry’s eager to spot land, dock the ship and take a few minutes just for himself, away from the chaos that is his life.

It’s a life he signed up for, but sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. Add a stubborn, royal brat to that mix and Harry could definitely use a day on land to get his bearings back.

Technically they’re docking for a supply run, but they’re taking an extra day for the crew to do their own thing, have some time apart. If it’s mostly so they won’t kill each other no one’s going to say it out loud.

Harry’s busy shrugging into a jacket, one that covers the tattoos on his shoulders, when Louis bursts into the room.

“I need clothing,” he says without preamble, crossing his arms over his chest and staring Harry down.

“You have clothes,” Harry says, grabbing the coin purse off the table and tucking it into his belt, where it’ll be safe from wandering hands.

Both Louis’ and pickpockets. 

Louis scoffs and shakes his arms at his sides pointedly. “You call this _clothing_?” he demands. “These ill fitting rags?”

Harry bites back a smile and gives Louis a slow once over. The clothes he’s wearing belonged to Niall at one point and someone before that, so the fit could be better, but they’re not really that bad. A little ragged, though, and Louis is probably used to feeling a lot more posh.

“And I suppose you have money to be buying yourself these clothes?” Harry asks, amused. Louis doesn’t have any money, only his admittedly seductive wiles.

“No,” Louis says, lower lip tugging into something that could be classified as a pout, swaying a couple steps closer and hooking two fingers into Harry’s belt. “But you’ll buy them for me, won’t you, love?”

If there was time Harry would bend Louis over the table and fuck him, just for assuming that Harry’s going to buy him things without getting anything out of it in return. He’s almost unbearably entitled, sleeping in Harry’s bed and going through his things and assuming that Harry is going to take care of him.

“No,” Harry says, watching as Louis’ pout becomes more exaggerated, eyelashes fanning his cheeks. “You’re already a spoiled brat, the last thing we need is for you to become even more entitled.”

“You love spoiling me,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers underneath the edges of Harry’s belt and into his trousers, just barely dipping beneath the waist. “You bring me fruit and tea and snacks to make sure I’ve eaten and you let me borrow your jackets when I’m cold. You want to take care of me.”

“Not when it involves spending thousands of pounds on a single jacket,” Harry mutters, taking Louis’ wrist and easing his fingers out of his trousers. “Let’s go, we have a lot to do.”

He doesn’t let go of Louis’ hand as he leads him to the door, fingers tangling together naturally, easily. “That’s not a no,” Louis tells Harry’s back, which isn’t precisely true. Harry’s pretty sure he said the word _no_ at least once.

They both know he’s going to end up buying Louis whatever he wants anyway.

 

The second Harry’s finishing doing the things he actually needs to do, Louis is dragging him into a fancy shop, bypassing the shop attendants entirely and rifling through articles of clothing that probably cost more than everything Harry’s wearing put together.

Dutifully, Harry holds everything Louis pulls out, until his arms are piled high with fabrics that are softer than anything Harry’s ever felt before and the whispering of the attendants becomes too loud to ignore.

“Would you like to try these on, sir?” one of the attendants interrupts, standing two steps away from Louis, turned just so he can eye Harry from the side.

“Yes, thank you,” Louis says, all regal airs as he motions for Harry to hand the clothing over. Harry does, baring his teeth in Louis’ direction just a little, just for the way he raises his eyebrows in response and tips his chin up the tiniest bit, putting his throat on display.

The attendant starts towards the back of the shop, clothes in hand. “No need to go all big bad alpha on me,” Louis murmurs, patting Harry’s chest as he slips by, fingers lingering a bit longer than absolutely necessary.

Harry disagrees. Then again, he always thinks there’s some reason or another to go all big bad alpha on Louis, whether it’s to get him to be quiet or because Louis has been prodding him into it. It doesn’t matter now, though, no when Louis is disappearing behind a thick curtain and all Harry can do is collapse into a nearby chair to wait.

Waiting sucks. Harry hates waiting, especially when he can’t stop thinking about the fact that Louis is at least half naked behind that curtain, all smooth skin just asking to be touched.

“What do you think?” Louis asks, standing in front of him suddenly, wearing an expensive shirt that drapes over him just right.

Harry stands up and crowds him back into the wall, putting his hands on Louis’ sides. “Very nice,” he tells him, head dipping down so they’re breathing the same air.

Louis pushes at him weakly. “You shouldn’t be standing this close to me, mister,” he says breathily, squirming slightly.

Oh, he wants to _play_. Harry can play.

“What are you going to do about it, then?” Harry asks, pressing against him harder. “Gonna fight me off, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, pressing their mouths together and wasting no time licking Louis’ lips open, slicking their tongues together. Louis whimpers into the kiss, hands still pressed up against Harry’s chest, and it’s warm and wet and intoxicating the way it always is, kissing Louis. So much so Harry forgets where they are, hands full of his omega’s body.

Right up until he gets hit on the back of the shoulder.

“ _Excuse me_ ,” one of the attendants says shrilly, ripping them apart. Harry blinks, arms suddenly empty with Louis standing two feet away from him. “You need to leave, sir.”

Louis’ mouth is full and red from Harry’s being pressed against it. He licks his lower lip, scrunching his shoulders in, and says, “Yes, mister, I think that’s best,” still in that stupid breathy voice.

Harry narrows his eyes at him. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?” he asks, stalking a step closer, intending to kiss the sass right out of him, hold him still until he does it himself.

He gets hit on the shoulder before he even finishes that first step. “You need to leave right now!” the attendant shouts, even shriller this time. “I’ll call the police!”

Huffing a frustrated sigh, Harry takes a step back, half turning to face the attendant. “For what?” he demands. “Nothing we’re doing here is a crime.”

Harry absolutely wants to be committing a crime right now, but he’s not. And he resents being pulled away from Louis like this on his ship, much less somewhere where he can actually snog Louis to his heart’s content without worrying that something is about to go wrong.

Or so he would have thought.

“Kissing an unmated omega without permission is a crime, sir,” Louis says primly, smoothing his shirt down over his belly, fingers lingering in a way that’s clearly meant to attract Harry’s attention.

As if Harry’s looking at anything but him.

“Aye,” Harry says, raising an eyebrow. “And if I were to mate you, then?”

“Get out!” the attendant cries again. Harry inhales a deep, exasperated breath and does so.

First he takes the two necessary steps to haul Louis over his shoulder, though. Regardless of proper status, this omega is his and Harry doesn’t intend on leaving him here.

The shop attendant’s scandalized cries follow them all the way out of the shop, down the street. Harry doesn’t stop running until he’s sure there’s enough distance between them and the ship, and then he does so abruptly, practically slamming Louis back onto his feet and up against a wall.

“Almost got me arrested, you little brat,” he says, almost into Louis’ mouth from how close they’re standing.

Weakly, Louis pushes at his shoulders. “You should be arrested, mister,” he murmurs, still using that stupid breathy voice as though it’s going to get him something he wants, “Don’t even know you and you’re tryna kidnap me. I’m a _good_ omega.”

He’s not good. He’s mouthy and bratty and stubborn and by no definition is he _good_.

“Well, little omega, I have news for you,” Harry whispers, bending his head and making sure Louis is properly boxed in, leaning against him so he won’t be able to escape, “I’m a pirate, so I’m not a good alpha. Gonna have you all for myself.”

Louis’ lips part, head tilting up just the smallest bit, just enough to bare a bit of his throat, wreaking havoc on the minuscule amount of control Harry has left. “But I’m a good boy, mister alpha,” he whimpers, even as he grinds his hips up into Harry’s, pretty little cock all hard and stiff in his trousers. The smell of his slick is beginning to sweeten the air around them, enough that he must be properly wet by now. Not enough to be dripping, not yet, but close.

Very close.

“No,” Louis whimpers, fingers flexing against Harry’s shoulders, pushing up onto his toes. He’s the one who brings their mouths together, finally kissing after what feels like ages. Licks at Harry’s bottom lip, teeth sharp and biting until Harry kisses him back, lets Louis’ tongue slip into his mouth nice and warm and wet.

Not that it takes long.

Harry could take him right here, knot him full against this wall where anyone could walk by and know who he belongs to, until he’s just whispering Harry’s name over and over again with that little crease in between his eyebrows that means it’s the only thing he can concentrate on.

Abruptly, Harry’s cheek starts stinging. Louis’ slapped him. Not hard, barely even enough to feel it, but Louis has slapped him.

Harry pulls back. “What the - ” he starts, except Louis is already wiggling out from between him and the wall.

“There’s an inn down the street,” he says, an octave above the breathy voice he was using earlier. “If you can catch me maybe I’ll let you defile me.”

With that he takes off, turning the corner quickly and presumably running down the street through a throng of people. _Maybe I’ll let you defile me_. Harry’s already defiled him so many times it’s near impossible to count them and he doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

Definitely plans on defiling him at least one more time today and a few times tomorrow.

He gives chase, sprinting through the streets, following that familiar bob of brown hair as he avoids smacking into pedestrians, squeezing between them when necessary. His breath starts coming faster and faster, cock sitting uncomfortably in his pants. Catching Louis is never going to happen, not unless Louis wants to be caught, quick and small and able to move through the crowd efficiently. Harry knows where he’s going, though, and even if he didn’t he can smell Louis even with the distance between them, can follow him. Track him.

By the time he hits the inn, Louis has already disappeared from sight. There’s people milling about in the lobby, a thick, woodsy smell coming from a fireplace tucked away in the corner. Harry slows to a stroll, trying to even his breathing without being too obvious about it. The stairs are off the center of the room, mahogany and gleaming. The entire place screams expensive, highbrow and classy. Harry feels out of place as he takes the stairs up, resisting the urge to climb them two at a time.

Louis’ scent drifts through the air, calling to him. Harry’s powerless not to follow it, down the hall, around a few corners, until finally he’s standing in front of a door that’s practically dripping with the smell of strawberries.

It’s locked.

 _Why is it locked_. Harry taps on it lightly. Wants to break the entire thing down, shove into it with his shoulder until it gives underneath his weight, wood splintering and hinges creaking. Until it lets him in.

He doesn’t. Wants to but doesn’t. It takes a few minutes for Louis to come to the door, long enough that Harry seriously starts considering just picking the lock, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, arousal simmering in his veins. Louis always thinks he can get away with whatever he wants and Harry’s gums are itching with the urge to show him he can’t. That Harry will put a stop to it, won’t put up with him being a cocktease and pretending like he doesn’t already belong to him.

When Louis finally opens the door, it’s only a few inches. The door doesn’t go any farther, can’t go any farther. The chain is still on, keeping Harry out. Keeping Harry from taking what belongs to him.

Under normal circumstances Harry might be a little annoyed with the single track his brain seems to be stuck on. There’s no world in which these are normal circumstances.

 _You fucking liar_ , his brain whispers. These are normal circumstances - any circumstances in which Louis has the upper hand and gloats right into Harry’s face about it are normal circumstances. Harry really needs to stop lying to himself in his own head. It never really works.

“Where’s my present?” Louis demands, keeping enough distance between himself and the door that Harry can’t grab him, yank him forward and kiss every single word out of his brain.

“What present,” Harry asks flatly. If he could get just one hand on Louis he’d be able to convince him to open the door and then they could finally get down to business, Harry would finally be able to get his mouth all over every single inch of this sweet little omega.

Louis pouts. It’s a very becoming pout, emphasizes his cheekbones and mouth in a way that makes it impossible for Harry not to want to put his cock in it. “You’re supposed to bring the omega you’re wooing a present, mister,” he says demurely, lowering his lashes like he’s not supposed to be meeting Harry’s gaze.

He’s still playing this game, then. Harry doesn’t know whether to be more frustrated or turned on or both.

Both. Both wins.

“Aye,” Harry says, resting his forearm against the door and leaning against it a little, only half testing to see whether it will hold up against his weight. It does. “Normally you’re supposed to bring a present when you’re wooing an omega, but in this case I thought it would be better to have the omega help obtain his present.”

Louis’ eyes brighten a bit, intrigued. “What does that mean?”

Harry’s cock hates him a little for what he’s about to say, but suddenly he has an idea. An idea he would very much like to see come to fruition. He leans in a little closer, drops his voice. “It means we’re going to go back to that store and steal all of the clothes you wanted to buy.”

And then fuck in a pile of them. Harry’s going to save that bit for later.

“Well,” Louis drawls, pushing the door in for a second, just long enough to unlock the chain, “now that sounds like a mighty fine wooing gift.”

 

Breaking into the shop is easy enough. Once working hours are finished the attendants head out pretty quickly, leaving it exposed for anyone who wants to rob it.

The lock is a flimsy little thing. Louis keeps a look out while Harry forces it open, slipping inside quietly and beckoning for Louis to do the same. The inside of the shop is dark, lights all turned off. There’s streetlamps illuminating some of the sections, though, and that will be enough for their purposes.

“Tell me, little omega,” Harry says, spinning around and pinning Louis up against the closest wall, “What were you thinking, coming here all alone with a big strong alpha? It’s like you’re asking to be defiled.”

Immediately, Louis tips his chin up, baring his throat. It’s a gesture he makes Harry work for any other day, and getting it so easily now has Harry’s head spinning. “Please,” Louis whimpers. It’s impossible to tell whether he’s begging for Harry to touch him or something else entirely, and Harry plans on getting him to beg for specifics. Where he wants Harry to touch him. _How_. Without that all Harry’s going to do is hold him up against this wall and watch him squirm.

“Please what, little omega?” Harry murmurs, teeth close enough to Louis’ throat that he’d be able to bite easily, only an inch away. It’s tempting, one particular sliver of skin practically calling Harry’s name.

“Touch me,” Louis breathes, arching up in Harry’s hands, trying to press their bodies together. “Please, alpha.”

That’s tempting as well. It’s not good enough, though, not after an entire day of being cockteased and smirked at and denied. No, Harry will get what he wants before he gives in.

“Where?” Harry asks, dragging a knuckle lightly over the flat plane of Louis’ belly. “Here?” Up over his ribs, ghosting over a nipple. “Here?” Higher, up the column of his throat, until he’s hovering over Louis’ mouth. “Or here?”

Louis swallows, eyes dark and vivid in the dim light. “Yes,” he rasps. “Everywhere, Harry, please. Wanna come.”

“Already?” Harry asks, nestling their hips together, not tight enough to provide any friction. “Barely even touched you yet.” It’s true, even if it feels like they’ve been touching for hours.

Again, Louis arches up. Harry pins him back against the wall by his hips, holding him there easily. Doesn’t have to say _stay_ , even though it’s on the tip of his tongue. “Always make me want to come,” Louis says softly, squirming until one of his hands is free. Reaches up to press two fingers against Harry’s jaw, begging with every move he makes. “All broad shouldered swagger, walking around giving orders to your crew and commanding your ship. Like the way your jaw ticks when you get angry something’s not going your way.”

Despite himself, Harry smiles. He lowers his head to catch Louis’ fingers in between his teeth, biting down gently on the tips of them. The shudder that runs through Louis in response is full bodied and beautiful.

“You’re too kind, my liege,” Harry murmurs, releasing Louis’ fingers with his mouth but catching them with his own hand. “Always have pretty words to match your pretty mouth.”

Louis flushes, slow. It starts in his cheeks and spreads to his throat, pink and charming. He’s so good looking it’s almost intolerable sometimes and Harry is the only one who gets to have him. There’s no better feeling in the world than that.

“Would you like me to put it to better use?” Louis asks softly, peering up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Alpha.”

Scratch that, _this_ might be the best feeling in the world, the thrill in Harry’s belly at the thought of Louis putting his mouth on him, the thought of Louis allowing Harry to guide his cock into his mouth.

“I would be honoured if you chose to do that,” Harry answers. Can’t help but grip Louis’ jaw a little, testing the strength of it.

Louis lets him, lets Harry manhandle him however he pleases, lips parting to show off the wet pink insides of his mouth and eyes darkening. Harry uses his grip to guide Louis to the floor, knees buckling gracefully as he slips down. His fingers are clumsy as he reaches out to struggle with Harry’s belt, trying and mostly failing to get it open. Harry helps him, one handed as he’s still loathe to relinquish his grip on Louis’ face. Between the two of them they manage to get Harry’s cock free, and Louis wastes absolutely no time sealing his mouth over the head.

It’s. Christ, it’s hot and wet and tight, perfect, and Harry’s thigh muscles almost immediately start shaking. It’s so good, almost too good, Louis’ tongue running over the head of his cock, not taking any more in even though Harry fucking knows that he’s capable of it, that he wants to.

“C’mon, baby,” Harry grits out from between his teeth, free hand sliding around the back of Louis’ head to cradle his scalp. Has to resist the urge to force him down a bit more, envelop Harry’s cock in more of that sinful mouth. “Wanna make me feel good, don’t you? Know you can go a little farther.”

Any other time, Louis would have fought him on it. Now, he just blinks up at Harry with big, slightly wet blue eyes and sinks down another two inches easily, never breaking eye contact. His fingers are tangled together between his own thighs, not touching, and this is all still clearly a part of his little game.

Harry doesn’t mind. It’s a game he’s pretty sure he can win.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, barely even recognizing the sound of his own voice with the way it’s gone deep and husky all on its own. “Such a pretty little omega, letting me have your mouth.”

Louis blinks slowly, sucking harder. Harry’s cock jumps, pre-come all flooding Louis’ mouth, making him swallow frantically, eyes getting a little wetter. He sucks Harry’s cock down all the way, until his nose is pressed right up against Harry’s belly and the only thing Harry can concentrate on is the flutter of Louis’ throat around him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says, the only word he’s capable of thinking, gripping Louis’ neck harder. It feels so good, so right, perfect and wet and tight and hot and everything Harry’s ever wanted. Louis rubs his tongue along the vein in Harry’s cock the best he can, sucking harder, and the need to come rattles through Harry’s entire body.

He hadn’t even noticed his knot swelling at the base of his cock, too caught up in how good it feels, in how good _Louis_ feels. In theory, Louis could just wrap a hand around the knot and Harry could come like that, make Louis swallow and swallow and swallow until Harry has nothing left to give him.

But Harry’s biological imperative will always tell him to do it properly, to get Louis on his cock and come inside of him, slick up his arse and make him all wet with Harry’s come. Give them a chance at - 

Harry pushes the thought to the back of his head. It’ll do him no good right now.

“Baby,” he manages, tugging pointedly at Louis’ hair, “Stop.”

It takes a minute, but Louis obeys. Slow suck of his mouth as he slides off of Harry’s cock, leaving it cold and lonely. Harry grits his teeth, doesn’t remove his hands from Louis’ hair. “Gonna fuck you now,” he tells him, in case Louis is confused and doesn’t know why he’s stopped.

“Yes,” Louis agrees, mouth full and red from Harry’s cock stretching it. “Please.”

The _please_ is almost like an afterthought, tacked onto the end in case Harry is in danger of changing his mind. He hauls Louis up off the floor, gets him into his arms and carries him towards the stockroom, unable to resist kissing him along the way. It takes longer than absolutely necessary to get there, but Harry’s not sorry. Kissing Louis will almost always win out over everything else.

There’s a pile of expensive clothing sitting neatly on the floor, clearly waiting to be put away the next day. Harry has no intention of allowing that pile to remain neat. He deposits Louis onto it somewhat gently, not giving him enough room to rear up and start complaining about the rough treatment, immediately surging down and reclaiming Louis’ mouth in an even rougher kiss.

Louis can take it. Of that, Harry’s sure. Louis can take anything Harry throws his way and more and there’s a legitimate possibility that one day he may be the one Harry’s crew calls Captain.

Harry isn’t as opposed to that thought as he probably should be.

“Poor defenseless little omega,” Harry croons, spreading Louis’ thighs so he can fit between them, rocking his hips down to meet Louis’. It feels good, has Harry’s breath catching in his throat, aching to be buried in that tight sweet heat hidden between the cheeks of Louis’ arse, a place only Harry has ever been. “Shoulda never come anywhere alone with an alpha, baby, gonna make you all messy and used. Only gonna be mine from now on, aren’t you?”

Louis only whines in response, tipping his hips up to give Harry easier access, body easy and all Harry’s. Never been anyone else’s.

“Gonna have to give me a dowry,” Louis murmurs back, lying still while Harry strips him of his clothes, so yielding and obedient. It’s an obedience that isn’t going to last, which means that Harry is going to have to take advantage of quickly. “If you wanna keep me.”

There’s no question as to whether Harry wants to keep him. Some days Harry wants to keep him chained to the bed just so he’ll never have a chance to do anything that isn’t have sex with Harry, keep him full and knotted and happy. It’s a less creepy idea than it sounds, Harry’s sure.

“No,” Harry tells him, snaking his hand underneath Louis’ thigh to get at his arse, dip two fingers between his cheeks. “We both know you’re going to help yourself to anything that’s mine anyway.”

The smile that overtakes Louis’ face is breathtaking. Harry kisses him again, has to, sinking one finger into the slippery heat of Louis’ hole at the same time. He’s tight and hot inside, and it’s not a new feeling, not anymore, but the throb in Harry’s cock would have him believe it is.

The inside of Louis’ mouth tastes like strawberries, sweet and luscious, incredibly soft. Slick tongue playing with Harry’s, daring him to try to trap it.

Harry does. Sucks Louis’ tongue into his own mouth and hollows his cheeks, tasting it. Teeth digging into his own lip. Doesn’t matter, not when he has Louis underneath him, not when he’s got Louis’ hole clenching around him, ready to take another finger.

Theoretically, Harry could just take him now, slip his cock into that welcoming heat. It might sting but Louis could take it, probably would even like the burn of it.

He’s not going to do that. This omega is Harry’s to take care of and Harry is determined to do exactly that for as long as Louis will let him.

“Lovely little omega and you’re mine, aren’t you,” Harry murmurs, dragging his teeth gently over Louis’ bottom lip. Feels the way Louis swallows, throat working. Adds that second finger.

Louis swallows again, harder this time. “Yes,” he says, barely more than a tiny little rasp of his voice. “I am, Harry.”

Heat burns through Harry’s body. He scissors his fingers, opening Louis up quickly, easily. “And you’re mine,” Louis continues, still in that bitten off voice, tremor practically audible. “Now fuck me before I find someone else to do it.”

Irrational jealousy surges through Harry’s gut. It’s an empty threat and they both know it, but it has Harry pulling his fingers out regardless, wiping them over his cock quickly, spreading Louis’ slick over it.

“Don’t,” he says, late. Lines up his cock with Louis’ hole. “Don’t say that.”

 _Hates it_. Hates the mere thought of it, of someone else having Louis like this. This is something that’s meant for Harry’s eyes only, and if someone tried to take it from him -

Harry doesn’t even know what he would do.

“Okay,” Louis says, spreading his thighs wider for Harry’s hips, brushing his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I won’t, I won’t, I promise, just - ”

 _Fuck me_. It’s what Louis was going to say, Harry is pretty sure, so he does it, presses his forehead against Louis’ and their mouths together again and then presses his cock in, swallowing every little hiccupy gasp Louis lets out. It’s overwhelming, almost crushing heat enveloping every inch Harry gives him.

Harry could die doing this and he would be happy.

“Baby,” he slurs into Louis’ mouth helplessly, still pressing in, going as slow as he can manage so he won’t hurt Louis, “baby,” again because that’s the only word he can think of. Just _baby_. Wants Louis to always be his baby. Forever.

“Love,” Louis slurs right back, and it isn’t clear whether he’s calling Harry love or if he’s trying to tell Harry he loves him but it doesn’t matter. The sentiment is the same either way. “Please.”

Please he wants to come, Harry is pretty sure. He’s also pretty sure that he can make that happen, no matter how overwhelmed and spacey he’s feeling himself. Wraps a hand around Louis’ cock and strokes him, so pretty and wet in his fingers. Wants to get his mouth around it later, make him come at least once like that before they’re finished.

“Sweet pretty omega,” Harry says, dragging his thumbnail across the head of Louis’ cock, “all you wanna be right now is mine, little prince, and I’m gonna _keep you_. I’m gonna keep you, baby.”

Like that, Louis comes, halfway to being caught on Harry’s knot and with his cock filling Harry’s hand. It feels so good, him clenching down around Harry’s cock all tight and warm, the best thing Harry’s ever felt, so good that his knot can’t help but swell up fast, locking inside Louis’ arse.

“Baby,” Harry murmurs, biting at the soft underside of Louis’ jaw, the same place he always bites when he knots. Freshens his mark.

Louis shudders against him, spurts out another string of come into Harry’s hand. Noses at Harry’s cheek, begging for another kiss without actually saying the words.

When he asks like that, Harry will never be able to resist giving in. He doesn’t even want to, either, kisses Louis with everything he has, wet and deep and slick, tonguing into Louis’ mouth the way that always makes him shiver and clench up. It’s kind of selfish, as it feels _so fucking good_ for Harry. It feels good for Louis too, though, and that’s half of what matters.

“Gonna - gonna keep me,” Louis echoes belatedly, tipping his head back with a pleased sigh as Harry starts coming, filling Louis’ hole with pulse after pulse of it. Wiggles happily. “Gonna keep you too.”

Harry presses his smile into Louis’ throat, dragging his fist down Louis’ cock again. “Yeah?”

Louis’ nod is determined. “Never gonna let go.”

“Good,” Harry whispers, kissing his throat. “You wanna prove it by coming for me again?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, tilting his hips up encouragingly. Lets Harry strip his cock hard and fast, counterpoint to the slow, sensual rock of his hips, and takes less than two minutes for him to start dripping his come all over Harry’s fingers.

Beautiful.

“I’m gonna steal you everything you wanted to buy from this shop,” Harry says. It feels like the right thing to say, coming in Louis’ arse and joining them as one again. He means it, too, wants to take all the things Louis even so much as tolerates from this shop for him to have. He’s Harry’s and he deserves the best. And Harry’s going to get it for him.

Louis’ smile is even slower this time, fucked out. Chances are good that he’ll fall asleep here, still stuck on Harry’s knot, and Harry will have to either wait for him to wake up again or carry him back to the inn. “Wear them all for you,” Louis promises sleepily.

It’ll be worth it.

 

Eventually, Harry and Louis return to the ship wearing almost identical smirks and carrying a load of clothing so large they almost had to hire someone else to help them with it. It had been a good trip, excellent really, but the ship is Harry’s home and he’s eager to get back to it. Too long on land makes him a little antsy, has him looking over his shoulder.

They’re met with somber looks and a noticeable missing presence. 

“Where’s Danny?” Harry demands.

In the chaos that ensues in lieu of an actual answer, Harry figures out the following: Danny is gone, kidnapped by an illegal omega trading ring.

Danny is gone.

 

“We’re not leaving him!” Harry bellows, slamming his knife right into the table, embedding it right into the wood. He instantly regrets the yelling, even though no one flinched and there’s exactly zero fear lingering in the air. “ _I’m_ not leaving him.”

“No one’s saying we should leave him,” Zayn says calmly. “I’m just saying we need a good, solid plan before we make a move. Going in half cocked is only going to get us all killed.”

The tension doesn’t exactly drain out of Harry’s body, but he feels marginally better. He’s never left a man behind before and he doesn’t intend to start now. “Alright. Any ideas?”

Everyone remains silent for a minute.

“I don’t think sneaking in is an option,” Niall says. “At least not without alerting the guards and having them do a mad scramble to get us out. We need to know where Danny is and go from there.”

“How are we going to know where he is, though?” Liam asks reasonably. “It’s not like we have someone on the inside.”

There’s a slight crunching sound from behind them. “You could,” Louis says.

“No,” Harry says immediately, before he’s even turned all the way around, before he even really knows what Louis is suggesting. He doesn’t have to hear the full idea to know that it’s a bad one.

Louis is leaning up against a wall, biting down on an apple, soft pants dragging over the tops of his feet, even softer shirt hanging off of one shoulder. “You’re a family, right?” Louis asks challengingly, tilting his chin up. “Families don’t leave anyone behind. And I’m part of the family, aren’t I? I’m going to help.”

There’s so many ways this conversation could go badly. Harry bites back his frustration and says, “Of course you’re part of our family, Louis.”

“So it’s settled, then,” Louis says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll be the inside man.”

Absolutely not. “There’s no way that’s happening,” Harry says, a little too harshly if the way Louis’ eyes narrow is any indication.

“Why?” is all Louis says. That’s it. Just _why_.

Harry flounders for an explanation that isn’t _because I said so_. Luckily, Zayn jumps in. Zayn, with his never ending supply of logic and patience. They’re so lucky to have Zayn. “Because everyone in the entire world can smell that you’re not pure and that’s the type of omega these guys go after. Pure ones.”

“I might not be pure but I am royalty,” Louis shoots back immediately, dashing all of Harry’s hopes that he would see the reason in Zayn’s logic. “And they’ll also be able to smell that I’ve only ever been with one alpha and that I’m unmated. It balances out.”

“No,” Harry repeats. It comes out a little more plaintively this time.

Louis ignores him, still focused on Zayn. “They’ll definitely want me, if only to sell me to someone who wants to torture me for being English royalty.”

Harry’s gut clenches. He bites back the impulse to say something along the lines of _not if they know what’s good for them_ , but only because he knows Louis will rip him apart if he does.

He can stop himself from saying the words but he can’t stop himself from having the feeling. Harry doesn’t want to find out what lengths he would go to in order to get Louis back if he was taken from him. There’s an image of a river of blood flowing in his head that he can’t quite shake.

“No,” Harry says suddenly, abruptly, pushing himself back from the table. Louis’ wrist is thin, skin soft underneath Harry’s fingers as he pulls him out of the room.

They don’t make it far before he’s shoving Louis up against the wall, pinning him there with his weight, still gripping his wrist. Louis’ eyes are narrowed, sneer on his face, and he’s already opening his mouth to say something.

Harry _can’t_. He just can’t. He surges forwards and slams their mouths together before Louis can get any words out, kissing him bruisingly. It’s a wet drag of lips against lips, tongue against tongue, saying what Harry doesn’t want to voice out loud. It’s _please_ and _stop_ and _I couldn’t take it if something happened to you_ all at once, and he knows that Louis can feel it, that he understands it.

The kiss goes on for a few minutes after that, turning less biting and more tender, more pleading. Louis goes soft underneath him, lax and trusting, base of his scent changing in that way Harry can never resist, going deeper and sweeter.

“I can’t risk you getting hurt,” Harry murmurs eventually, letting their foreheads press together. It’s too close to be able to look into Louis’ eyes, see what he’s thinking. Not that it really matters - chances are good that he’s thinking Harry’s a swine. It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably won’t be the last.

Louis doesn’t respond. It’s as close of an agreement as Harry is going to get.

 

He doesn’t see where Louis goes - somewhere, is all he knows. Somewhere that isn’t Harry’s cabin, possibly to shit talk Harry behind his back to the rest of his crew, but Harry can’t worry about that right now. Not when they still have to devise a plan that will get Danny out of the building housing what could be hundreds of omegas and slave traders.

“We have the money,” Zayn says eventually, rubbing his forehead. It’s a gesture that betrays his exhaustion, one Harry can relate to. “We could just send a few people in as if they’re looking to buy. I don’t see how we’d be able to get eyes on the inside but at least one person should be able to slip away and find Danny.”

There doesn’t seem to be a better option forthcoming, and time is of the essence. Harry takes another look around the room and says, “Okay. So who wants to go in?”

 

“What are you doing?” Louis asks suspiciously, hesitating for a second before closing the door behind himself and leaning up against it. “Why are you naked?”

 _Because you’re not the only one who knows how to get something_ Harry thinks uncharitably. He doesn’t say that, stretching his arms above his head. “It’s hot in here,” he says instead, lacing his fingers and enjoying the way his back cracks.

Louis’ lips purse. “This isn’t me giving in to your scheme,” he warns, drifting a few steps closer.

“No?”

“No,” Louis confirms. “Know you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

He steps over Harry with one leg and kneels down carefully, no part of them touching yet. “Awfully suspicious of you,” Harry says, skimming his hands up Louis’ thighs and settling them over his hips so he can pull him all the way down.

“It’s not suspicious if I know you’re trying to pull something over me,” Louis says, still suspicious, but he settles into Harry’s lap regardless. “And don’t think that just because I’m letting you have your way with me means that I don’t know you’re up to something. Because I do.”

“Alright, baby,” Harry says, amused despite himself, running his hands up Louis’ sides underneath his shirt. “Wanna take this off?”

He wants Louis to take it off. Louis eyes him a second longer before stripping the shirt over his head, immediately leaning in for a kiss. Harry’s happy to oblige, tipping his head up so Louis can bring their mouths together, immediately making it hot and dirty. It’s hard to determine which of their kisses could be considered their best one, but this one is definitely in the running for it.

Louis is still wearing too many clothes for Harry’s liking. This may have started out as distraction sex but that doesn’t matter, not when he has Louis in his hands, smelling like he wants it. Harry will never be able to resist that smell, that alluring scent. He doesn’t want to, either.

“Don’t think I’ve fallen for this,” Louis warns. He’s already gasping out his words, fingers scrambling between their bodies, trying to get his trousers off. Between the two of them, it doesn’t take long to manage it, leaving Louis fully naked and half on Harry’s lap.

Exactly where Harry wants him. For more reasons than one.

“Shh,” Harry says, sinking one finger into Louis’ tight wet heat, already slick and ready for him, just from a few brief seconds of snogging. He’s so receptive, Louis, and it’s all for Harry. No matter what, it’s all for Harry, and if he hadn’t already been hard that thought would have gotten him there. “Want you to come from my fingers, baby, okay?”

Louis clutches onto Harry’s shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin. He nods his head, fire not dimming in his eyes. He’s going to be so angry at Harry for what he’s going to do but that won’t matter as long as he’s safe. That’s what Harry needs from him right now, for him to be _safe_.

And for him to come. Harry doesn’t think it’s too much to ask.

“Make me, then,” Louis hisses, shoving down onto Harry’s finger, filling himself up more. Harry takes that for the challenge it is, wiggling a second finger inside of him and immediately searching out his prostate.

Knows he finds it when Louis whimpers and sags against him, all the fight leaving him just like that. He’s boneless and hot against Harry, cock hard and dripping. Harry scissors his fingers, opening him up and making him feel good at the same time. He wants to kiss Louis so he does, mostly catching the corner of his mouth and licking inside at an awkward angle.

It’s good enough, though. Clearly it’s good enough. Louis comes, digging his nails into Harry’s back so hard he’s probably broken the skin, making low, whimpery noises. He’s getting both of them so messy, come slick on their skin. Harry likes it, likes that Louis is doing his part to make them smell like each other, to make them smell like they belong.

“Stubborn little omega,” Harry says, more to himself than anything. He’s not trying to hide the fondness in his voice, which is good, as it’s coming across pretty strongly.

Louis smiles against Harry’s mouth. “You wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says breathlessly, moving as one with Harry as he draws his fingers out and positions himself instead, cock breaching the rim of Louis’ hole.

“Aye,” Harry agrees readily. “I wouldn’t.” He probably didn’t have to actually say it out loud - it’s something Louis knows, something Louis throws in his face whenever he’s mad at Harry, but at the same time it’s vital that Harry says it. Just in case Louis is at risk of forgetting it.

Neither of them say anything else as Harry slides inside Louis slowly, brow furrowed as he concentrates on not going too fast. It’s slower than really necessary but it’s the best way, sinking in slow and deep, making Louis feel every inch. It’s the best way to tire him out, too, make him malleable and sleepy once they’re finished. Harry needs every advantage he can get right now.

It feels good for Harry too, all tight clinging heat surrounding him, slick because of him. Nothing will ever feel the way Louis does. Nothing will ever smell the way Louis does, all sweet slick strawberries and sex. Harry will never be able to get enough of this scent.

It takes forever for Louis’ arsecheeks to meet Harry’s thighs. It doesn’t take nearly long enough for Louis’ arsecheeks to meet Harry’s thighs.

“Princeling,” Harry says, voice thick with arousal. He barely manages to get the word out, squeezing his eyes closed, almost overwhelmed. “You.”

“Yes,” Louis responds, teeth sinking into the palm of Harry’s hand. “Please.”

They’re on the same page, unconsciously and beautifully. Harry grips Louis’ hips in his hands and starts moving, picking up a fast, deep rhythm. He’s not going to last long before he knots, and he intends to make Louis come one more time before then. At least four orgasms are what he needs for the tire-Louis-out plan.

“Fuck,” Louis says on an exhale, reaching up one arm to brace himself, prevent himself from smashing his head against the wall. His _fuck_ isn’t a _go slower_ so Harry yanks him down a few inches, gives them more room to work with and keeps going. Louis’ cock is lying pretty pink and hard against his belly, bouncing with each of Harry’s thrusts. If pressed Harry would maybe grudgingly admit that it’s a little harder than he normally fucks Louis, prefers to go a little bit slower, a little bit deeper and make sure Louis feels good throughout every second.

This is going to get Louis off so much quicker, though. He’s already moaning again, hand flying down his body to grab at his cock, start pulling himself off in time with Harry’s thrusts. “Fuck me, Harry, please.”

Harry _is_ fucking him. He knows what Louis means, though, shoves one arm underneath Louis’ back and hauls him up higher, nailing him quicker and shorter. “Baby,” he says quietly, the only thing he can think of to say. “Baby.”

Louis pulls him down to kiss him again, just for a second before he’s coming again, turning the kiss into more of a moan. It’s just in time, too, as Harry’s knot has been swelling for the past two minutes at least. He pushes it into Louis’ body, holds there for the second it takes to lock, and echoes Louis’ moan with one of his own.

He’s saying something, he’s pretty sure. Doesn’t quite know what it is, probably just a variation of _feels so good baby_. Louis is answering him, responding to him with his own slurred compliments.

It takes a minute to come back to his senses. By the time he does, he’s pretty sure Louis has come another time, gazing up at Harry with sweet, dreamy eyes. His mouth is bitten pink, cheeks flushed, slight sheen of sweat dampening his entire body.

And he feels _so fucking good_.

“You feel so fucking good,” Harry tells him, reaching up to rub his thumb across Louis’ bottom lip, re-familiarizing himself with the feel of it. Won’t stand to forget it.

“You too,” Louis says, sucking Harry’s thumb into his mouth, looking up at Harry from underneath his eyelashes. He’s so pretty, perfect. Sweet little omega who will never concede to be sweet to anyone other than Harry. Perfect.

Harry starts to come, slow, racking waves that go through his entire body, pressing his forehead against Louis’ and shuddering with how good it feels. He knocks Louis’ hand off his cock, replaces it with his own. Can’t manage to get an even rhythm but it doesn’t matter, flesh silky hot and hard in his hand. He doesn’t know how long it takes but Louis comes again, whining in the back of his throat. Only then does Harry stop, mouthing over the curve of Louis’ jaw, his cheek. Too fucked out to turn it into a proper kiss. He wants to fall asleep but he knows he can’t, knows that if he does his not-so-well-laid plan will turn into Louis’ not-so-well-laid plan.

It’s only another few minutes before Harry’s knot has gone down enough to pull out. He’s slow, careful as he does it, trying not to jostle Louis too much. Louis is mostly asleep, eyes only open a sliver, watching Harry. Harry presses a kiss against Louis’ shoulder, waiting a bit more, not moving off of him in the meantime.

Then, when Louis is properly asleep, Harry eases off of him and goes to grab a length of rope. He makes sure to secure Louis’ limbs properly, tightly. This entire endeavor would have been pointless if Louis escapes.

 

The plan isn’t a great one. It involves getting dressed up in fine clothing and trying to pass as higher class than they actually are in an attempt to blend in with the rest of the clientele. Which meant they’d had to raid a few shops during the night to find the clothing.

Needless to say, Harry is both itchy and uncomfortable. His favourite knife is tucked into his boot, on the verge of sliding down and embedding itself in his foot, and he can’t even do anything to fix it or else he’ll risk drawing attention.

Everything is going according to plan. Zayn slipped off silently half an hour ago, Niall following suit a few minutes after that, and Liam’s set to cause a distraction in case anything goes wrong.

They don’t really know what they’re going to do once they do find Danny, but Harry’s got a knife and his crew at his back, which is more than he’s had in other situations. They’ll figure it out.

Zayn reappears in the ballroom just as silently as he’d left it. Harry catches his eye and receives a slight shake of his head in response. No luck.

Great. Hopefully Niall will have found something useful.

Niall doesn’t come back for quite some time. Harry makes uncomfortable small talk with the other patrons sitting at his table, getting steadily more worked up with how they speak about the omegas. It’s ridiculous and degrading and Harry wouldn’t trust any of them with a beta, much less an omega.

For now there’s nothing he can do about it. But he’s beginning to re-think the plan to include getting all the omegas out of here along with Danny.

The auction has just begun by the time Niall comes back. He gives Harry the same small shake of his head Zayn had.

Another bust. This is not going the way Harry had hoped it would.

There’s nothing any of them can do, at least not while the first omega is being brought out onto the stage. Leaving now would draw exactly the type of attention they don’t want.

According to the program - _they have a fucking program_ \- there’s going to be a short break after the first fifteen omegas are sold. They’ll pick up searching then and hope for better luck. Time is getting away from them, though, and Harry’s starting to feel every second of it.

No matter what happens, he doesn’t plan on leaving without Danny.

Everything changes when the sixth omega is brought out. Harry’s attention hasn’t really been focused on the stage, brain too busy combining possibilities and exit routes, and he’s understandably distracted.

Right up until the auctioneer says, “Our next omega is a special one. Although he is not a virgin, he has only been with one alpha and more importantly, he is English royalty. The firstborn son of the King of England, to be exact.”

Harry’s attention swings to the stage so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, heart almost stopping in his chest.

It’s not for nothing. Onstage, Louis is on his knees, held in place with a collar around his throat, leash attached to it and held by a big, burly security guard. His scent has been dampened, barely even there, and all he’s wearing is a thin robe that’s slipping down off a shoulder, baring almost the entire expanse of his chest for the entire room to see.

Harry’s half out of his seat before he even realizes it. The only thing stopping him from tearing the entire room apart is Liam’s hand on his knee, pushing him back down.

He’s on display for everyone to see. _Louis is on display for everyone to see_. Harry wants nothing more than to cross the room and shove his knife straight through the guard’s heart.

Once the shock has passed - but not the anger - Harry’s able to see that Louis’ eyes are clear and sharp. Not drugged, then, which is only a small mercy.

“We’ll start the bidding at one thousand pounds,” the auctioneer says. Harry’s paddle is up in the air before he’s even finished the sentence.

Along with ten other paddles.

Harry might buy him only to murder him. _What the fuck was he thinking_. This is exactly what Harry was trying to avoid. Now he’s going to be unable to concentrate on getting Danny out of here, knowing that Louis is here as well.

The bidding gets up to ten thousand. Harry raises his paddle each time, grim determination set in his bones. He’s not going to let someone else buy Louis, even if it means he has to spend every dollar he’s ever earned.

Not that he actually intends to pay. But the point stands.

He wins. He has to bid eighteen thousand pounds, but he wins. Then he shoves himself out of his chair, uncaring of the terrible screech it makes, and goes to collect his winnings. He makes it without any problems, despite the anger still surging in his veins.

“We’ll take the money and then you can have the omega,” the attendant says.

Harry stares him down, blood burning throughout his entire body. “No. I’ll see the omega and then you’ll have your money.”

“That’s not really the way it works, sir,” the attendant says, faux-apologetically.

Harry doesn’t even attempt to tone down the alpha pheromones he can feel leaking out of him. “So you can sell me a damaged omega? How am I to know you haven’t bruised him or broken a bone? You’ll show me the omega so I can inspect him and then you’ll get the money.”

The attendant doesn’t waver. “With a generous tip for you, of course,” Harry adds.

Five minutes later, he’s being led down a row of cells to the one Louis is being held in. They pass several omegas along the way, varying degrees of scared and cowering, but when they reach Louis he’s sitting in the middle of the room on a chair, one leg folded over his knee primly. He looks every inch the royal omega he’s pretending to be. Is. Harry’s brain hurts a little.

“I suppose this is the oaf of an alpha you’ve sold me to?” Louis asks scathingly. There’s chains around his wrists, his ankles.

“You’ll watch your mouth,” Harry says sharply, ripping the key to the cell right out of the attendant’s hand. “I’ll take it from here.”

The attendant doesn’t even give Louis a second look on his way out. Harry waits, drawing in exactly ten deep, even breaths before entering the cell, unlocking Louis’ restraints calmly.

Then, much less calmly, he hauls Louis out of the chair, only to pin him up against the closest wall and kiss the smartarse right out of his mouth, plundering and rough.

“You idiot,” he snarls into Louis’ mouth, fisting a handful of hair at the back of Louis’ head and pulling him up a little, tilting him to a better angle. “I fucking told you not to do this, and of fucking _course_ it’s the first thing you go and do. What if something had have happened to you? Do you think I’d be able to live with myself?”

Louis waits until Harry’s finished, docile underneath his hands the way he only ever is when he knows being his usual stubborn, pushy self is only going to rile Harry up even more, and not in the good way. “I suppose that means you don’t want me to tell you where Danny is, then?”

Harry takes a few more breaths. It fucking figures Louis would be the one to spot Danny. Louis, the one with the most to lose if they got caught - the rest of them would probably just be killed, but Louis. Louis’ fate would be much worse than death.

“They have him working in the kitchens,” Louis continues blandly, voice cool. He’s just as angry at Harry as Harry is at him, then. That’s fine. That’s good, actually, because Harry is feeling a lot of anger right now and any conversation they try to have would just involve yelling.

It’s a good thing they don’t have time to have an argument right now.

“Show me,” Harry says, loosening his grip but not letting his hand slip out of Louis’ hair. He kisses him again, one more time, just in case this doesn’t do the way they want it to. Nothing’s going to happen to Louis - Harry will die before he lets that happen - but just in case something happens to Harry.

“It’s this way,” Louis says, breaking the kiss. He slips out from in front of Harry and takes two steps towards the door of the cell.

Harry stops him before he can get any further. “Wait.” Louis’ shoulders tense, just a bit, but he turns back around regardless.

“What.”

Harry reaches down into his boot and withdraws his knife, presses it into Louis’ hand. “Take this. Stay behind me, stay quiet. If you see anyone you don’t recognize use it. Slash, don’t stab. Understand?”

Louis curls his fingers around the knife, settling it into his palm easily. “Yes.”

That’s all he says, and Harry is grateful for the reprieve, brief as it may be. He knows that Louis knows how to use a knife in a fight - Liam taught him for a bit before Zayn took over, taught him how to use his smaller stature to his benefit, and Harry’s sparred with him a few times, shown him a few of the tricks he’s never shown anyone else. 

Still can’t help it. He’s under no illusions that Louis is going to let him get away with it - the second they get back on the ship they’re going to have words, Harry can already tell. For now Louis will go along with it, knows Harry won’t be able to concentrate unless he does, but they both know he doesn’t like it and won’t tolerate it a second longer than he has to.

Harry leads the way out of the cell, down the hallway in the direction Louis points. They’re almost silent as they slip through, only the sounds of their footsteps and their synchronized breathing.

They don’t come across anyone for several minutes, until the bustle of the kitchen starts to become audible. Louis presses a hand against Harry’s back, _go left_ , and they round the corner to two guards standing around and chatting.

Instantly, everyone’s moving. Harry’s given his only weapon to Louis so he makes due with his fists and elbows, breaking a nose here, an arm there. He can feel Louis at his back, never loses awareness of him. He takes a punch to the face and answers with one to the guy’s stomach, shoves back with all his weight. Pins the guy up to the wall and shoves a forearm against his throat, presses. Doesn’t take long before he’s slumping, unconscious.

Turns around to Louis standing over the other guy, wiping the blade against his thigh absently. He’s all but covered in blood, hard glint in his eyes when he looks back up at Harry.

“And you think I never listen when you talk,” he says.

Logically, Harry knows that he must be fine. Harry’s got the taste of blood in his mouth from the punch the guard landed to his face, lip cracked and already slightly swollen, but Louis must be fine, isn’t wincing or in visible pain.

He has to check for himself anyway. They’re running on a finite amount of time but he has to check anyway, crowds Louis up against the wall, stepping over the guy on the ground and peeling the blood soaked robe away from his skin. Runs his hands over Louis’ unmarked skin, checking for anything he’s not smelling.

Nothing. That’s good. “You satisfied now?” Louis asks impatiently, barely holding still while Harry fixes the robe. “They’re going to notice we’re gone soon.”

Reluctantly, Harry steps back. He presses his fingers to the fast beat of Louis’ pulse in his wrist before they move, heading towards the kitchen again. It doesn’t take long to get there, only a few hallways away. They’re lucky the fight hadn’t been overheard, then.

No one even takes a second look at them when they enter, much less tries to stop them. They must be incredibly obvious, Louis covered in blood and Harry with his busted face, yet no one tries to stop them. There’s no guards here, and everyone seems to be engrossed in their work, and there, in one of the corners of the room, is Danny.

Harry’s chest feels about ten times lighter. They’re not out of the woods, not yet, but now they know where Danny is and now they can get out of here.

Louis strides right over to Danny and hugs him so tight Harry can almost hear his bones cracking. “You worried me,” Louis says into Danny’s chest, muffled. Harry’s right behind him, keeping one eye on the entrance for any guards who happen to be wandering by. They don’t have a plan but there’s three of them, now, and Harry likes those odds much better than two.

Now they just have to find the others and get out of here. Piece of cake.

 

Not a piece of cake. _Not a piece of cake at all_. As soon as they finish hugging, Danny looks up and says, “We can’t allow this place to keep running,” with grim determination on his face.

“Good thing we weren’t planning on leaving without freeing everyone, then,” Louis says. It’s not far from what Harry has been thinking pretty much since they entered, but it’s still a pain in the arse. Getting out a single person is one thing, freeing an entire building of enslaved omegas is another. They need an actual plan if they’re going to do this.

“We need to find the others,” Harry says. It’s really the only thing they can do at this point.

 

It takes a while to round everyone up. Harry has to wonder at the ineptness of the guards considering that they haven’t figured out one of the omegas is only partially paid for and already missing. It’s going to work in their favour, though, and Harry plans to exploit it with everything he has in him.

“We should start a fire,” Louis says. The blood he’s covered in has started to dry, flaking off the front of the robe. Harry’s skin itches with the need to get him out of it, to get him clean again, to make him smell like himself.

“So everyone can burn to death? That’s not really rescuing them, mate,” Zayn points out. His fingers slip over his pocket absently, probably touching the cigarette he always has stashed in there. It’s a comfort thing for him, touching it when he’s thinking. Helps him clear his mind.

“Actually,” Harry says slowly, “That’s not such a bad idea.”

 

They hammer out a plan within the next few minutes. It’s a much better plan than the one they had when came in. That being said, there’s still no guarantee that it’ll work.

They’re all willing to take the chance that this fight will be their last. That might be the only thing Harry ever wants from his crew.

Well. That and their unwavering allegiance to Harry as their Captain. He doesn’t think that’s too much to ask.

The plan has a very good chance of working. They’re set to split up, respective parts to play and all, and Harry believes it’s going to work. He really does.

He still grabs Louis by the back of the neck and pulls him in before he can get any farther. “Be careful,” he says, entirely too conscious of the rasp in his voice. Leans in so he can press his forehead to Louis’, ignoring how wrong he smells with the scent suppressors he’s been dosed with and someone else’s blood covering him. “Anyone touches you, you kill them if you have to, okay?”

Louis reaches up to press his fingers against Harry’s wrist. “I will,” he says, quiet, just for Harry. Because Harry needs to hear him say it, that he’ll take care of himself even if it means hurting someone else before they have a chance to hurt him. “Don’t you dare come back to me in more than one piece.”

He kisses Harry hard, deepening the cut on his lip. It’s brief, over way too fast, and then he’s slipping out of Harry’s grasp, not glancing back even once as he strides back towards the ballroom. His job is to cause a distraction, and Harry has absolutely no doubt that it’ll be one for the history books.

A mouthy little omega facing off against a room full of sex slave traders? Yeah, Harry wishes he could be there to see it.

In the meantime, he heads back to the kitchen himself, first to get all of the workers out and then to start the fire. As always, he has Liam at his back, ready to take on whatever guards they come across. If it wasn’t likely that Harry will need backup he’d have made Liam go with Louis to have his back instead - Liam’s easily the best fighter Harry has ever come across, and there’s no one in the entire world he’d rather have behind him in a brutal battle, which is exactly why he wants Liam with Louis, for when something happens.

When, not if, because even Harry isn’t stupid enough to think that Louis will let go of Danny being kidnapped. Fierce and loyal to a fault are among two of the best ways to describe Louis, and he’s not going to forgive the people who attempted to take one of the first people Louis made a real connection with.

Three guards show up before Liam and Harry are even halfway back to the kitchen. Harry still only has his body to use as a weapon and Liam has his own knife stashed into his boot. They throw themselves into the fight whole-heartedly, working as a cohesive unit, and it takes less than two minutes for it to be over.

God, Harry loves fighting with Liam. Sometimes he forgets how much.

The rest of the run to the kitchen passes quickly enough. No one stops them, no one else tries to get in their way, and then once they’re there it’s easy enough to clear out the kitchen. A couple of alphas shouting and slamming things around usually does that.

The ovens are already going, nice and hot from preparing the banquet meal. Harry starts dragging over as much wood as he can find while Liam watches the door, just piling it as high as he can. Once that’s done, it’s easy enough to get the fire blazing, hot and smokey. Almost instantly, Harry’s eyes start watering from it. He coughs into his hand and heads back towards Liam at a full out run, anxious to get out of here before the fire starts spreading.

Above their heads, the ear splitting shriek of the fire alarm starts going off. A rush of satisfaction surges through Harry’s chest, even as he and Liam burst back into the mostly empty ballroom, soot on their faces and clothing.

Louis is still there, standing in the middle of the room over two bodies. There’s more blood on him, darkening his robe, dripping off of his left hand. Harry’s about ninety-nine percent sure that none of it belongs to him.

He still smacks right into Louis in his desire to make sure, fingers slipping quickly over his skin, conscious of the fact that they need to flee before they get caught or trapped. There’s no obvious marks on him, no bruises or cuts, and no time to thoroughly examine him.

“The omegas?” Harry asks, holding Louis’ face between his hands. 

“Escaped,” Louis answers. “Danny got them out and Niall and Zayn made sure the rest of the building was cleared. We should go now.”

Good. That’s good. The implication that at some point Zayn left Louis by himself isn’t as good, but Harry knows better than to think that it was Zayn’s fault. No doubt Louis made him go while he took care of the two alphas in charge of this organization.

“Good. Now go,” Harry orders, spinning Louis around by the shoulders and giving him a good shove to get him going. The smoke is building, thickening. It’s definitely time to get out of here.

Liam is at Harry’s back as they make their way out of the building, practically falling out onto the street. There’s people clustered around, gaping at the burning building, but so far no police or firefighters.

Danny’s standing half way down the street surrounded by what must be the omegas who were being held prisoner. Liam, Louis and Harry make their way over to them, fighting their way through the gaping crowd just as Niall and Zayn round a different corner.

Danny barely waits for them all to come together before he’s saying, “We’re gonna need to figure out something for these people. We need to get them home safely.”

None of them had really thought that far ahead, but he’s right. They can’t just abandon these people now, not after they’ve gone through all the effort of getting them out of there.

They need another plan.

 

In the time it takes them to come up with a way to get all of the omegas back to where they were taken from - and a few more places for the ones who were taken from already bad situations - no one notices the older man dressed in fine clothing watching them from the other side of the street.

No one notices him the entire time.

 

Louis crashes face first against the wall, pinned there by Harry’s weight on him only an instant later. He breathes heavily, trying to throw an elbow back into Harry’s gut.

Harry leans on him harder. “Spread,” he says roughly, kicking Louis’ feet apart. Louis struggles, stepping on his toes and being a general pain in the arse.

He’s going to have a pain in his own arse tomorrow. Harry’s going to make sure of it.

“I’ll not listen to you,” Louis hisses, elbowing him again. Frustrated, Harry grabs both of his hands, drags them behind his back and pins him there. Bites at the back of his neck. Louis shudders but doesn’t go limp, shoving back with his entire body, nearly knocking Harry off balance.

“Aye, you will,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ wrists tightly. “A good omega always listens to their alpha.”

Louis succeeds in shoving him back this time, getting his wrists free at the same time. Harry stumbles, goes down when Louis trips him, bare foot hooking against his ankle and throwing him off balance.

Harry’s cock throbs, swells. The bone of Louis’ knee digs into his thigh as he straddles Harry’s hips, pinching at the inside of his elbow. “It’s a good thing I’m not a good omega, then, isn’t it?”

Not by typical standards, no. By Harry’s standards he outshines every omega in the world put together.

“You’re a terrible omega,” Harry says anyway, sitting back up fast, ignoring the twinge in his back, getting back on his feet with Louis’ legs still wrapped around his waist. Shoves him back up against the wall where Harry wants him.

Knows if he stays this time it’s because he wants to. Christ, but Harry’s done a good job teaching him how to fight.

“Don’t know what I did to deserve having you in my life,” Harry continues, reaching for Louis’ wrists again with one hand.

Doesn’t make it because Louis slaps him.

Harry drops him and spins him back around, face towards the wall, before he even finishes thinking about it.

“Nothing good, that’s what you did,” Louis says, spreading his legs of his own volition. Harry sighs into the back of his neck, unable to stop himself. The scent of Louis’ slick is invading all of his senses, warm and welcoming. Wanting. Asking. Begging.

He wants Harry in him. Harry wants to be in him. He doesn’t know what they’re waiting for. They just rescued an entire building full of omegas, got Danny back, and Louis still doesn’t smell exactly right. It’s long since past time to fix that.

“You tryin’a say that I’m not worthy of you, my liege?” he asks Louis’ neck, tucking two fingers into the back of his trousers and pulling them down his hips, letting them pool on the floor. “Despite all I’ve done for you?”

“Keeping me from my home and my family, you mean?” Louis asks, stepping out of the linen and kicking them away, leaving him in a thin cotton shirt and nothing else.

He smells so good. Harry doesn’t waste any time dragging two fingers down between his cheeks, spreading the wetness he finds there. “This is your home,” he says, murmuring the words into the back of Louis’ neck. “You keep telling me.”

Louis pushes back on his fingers, trying to angle himself so a finger slips inside. Harry’s chest burns with love and affection and lust.

A lot of lust.

“I’m your home,” Louis says, succeeding. One of Harry’s fingers breaches him, sinking in all the way up to the third knuckle, wet and warm and tight. Harry barely even registers the words, knows they’re true anyway.

“You’re my love,” Harry tells him. Sinks a second finger inside because he can and because he knows Louis is ready for it.

Can smell how ready Louis is for it.

“I’m your everything,” Louis gasps out, twisting on Harry’s fingers and trying to wind a leg around his calf despite the awkward angle. “You would give up all of this, your ship and your crew and your entire way of life if I asked you to.”

He says it with certainty, with conviction.

“But you never would,” Harry says with just as much certainty, twisting his fingers, scissoring them. His cock is thick and demanding between his legs, wanting attention, needing to be buried in Louis’ hole.

“No,” Louis admits, voice cracking. “I - _fuck_ , I would never ask that of you.”

No, he wouldn’t. Because he burns for Harry the exact same way Harry burns for him, all deep heat and love so strong sometimes it feels impossible. He’s Harry’s and Harry is his and that’s the only way it can be. Even if something goes wrong, that’s the only way it can be.

“Good,” Harry says back, pressing his ring finger in beside the other two, eager to get on with it. Bites at the nape of Louis’ neck just to feel the way he shudders with his entire body. “Haven’t forgotten that you deliberately disobeyed my orders to stay on the ship while we went to rescue Danny, though.”

Just thinking about it sends heat through Harry’s chest, anger. Anything could have happened to Louis in the time it took them to show up - he could have been sold, he could have been hurt, he could have been _killed_. Anything.

He put himself into danger in a place where it was incredibly likely that something _would have_ actually happened to him. Harry isn’t quite ready to forgive that yet.

“ _I_ rescued Danny,” Louis says, shifting up onto his toes. Determined, Harry moves with him, pressing his fingers relentlessly against Louis’ prostate, trying to get him to say - something. An apology, maybe, an admittance of him being in the wrong, _something_.

He could have been killed.

“Without me you would have never found him,” Louis continues, voice breaking, breathy and soft even though he doesn’t mean it to be.

It’s so frustrating, painfully so, because he’s not wrong, but the part of Harry that wants to protect him, the part of him that wants to keep Louis safe even though he knows Louis is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, is rearing up, ugly and bright inside of him.  
He bites at Louis’ neck again, mottling the skin as he pulls his fingers out and lines up his cock.

Before he starts pushing in he slips one hand around Louis’ hip, down his belly to curl around his cock, full and thick and wet. “Wanna fuck you so hard the only thing you remember is my name. You want that, baby?”

Louis pushes back against him, head of Harry’s cock threatening to push past his rim. “You’re welcome to try,” he says, still so biting and vicious because he’s every bit as mad at Harry as Harry is at him, “but I sincerely doubt you’ll be able to.”

That ugly part of Harry that he tries to keep buried most of the time rears up even harder. He squeezes his fingers around Louis’ cock, almost punishingly, and doesn’t waste another second pushing his cock inside Louis’ arse.

For a second, Harry could almost swear he sees stars. It’s tight and warm and so fucking wet, practically dripping down Harry’s cock even as he keeps pushing in, gritting his teeth so he’ll be able to resist the urge to just shove every inch in all at once.

Louis is making noises, high pitched and whimpery, suddenly so heavy in Harry’s arms he has to strain a little to keep holding him up, unwilling to let them both go slumping towards the floor, and keeps sinking in and in and in.

Louis comes before Harry’s even halfway inside, cock spurting all over his fingers, his knuckles, making those breathy little noises he can never hold back, clenching up impossibly tight around Harry’s cock.

“Pretty little omega,” Harry murmurs to the back of his neck, refusing to let the hot wet vise of Louis’ hole prevent him from getting his cock all the way in, “Come before I’m even all the way inside of you, you just love my cock that much. So sweet for me, my love, never gonna let anyone else inside of you like this, are you.”

It’s not a question. Louis answers it anyway. “Never, only you. Only want you.”

Hearing him say it is almost enough to dampen the fire burning in Harry’s chest. Almost. Not quite enough. He starts thrusting, pulling out quickly and shoving back in even harder, shocking a long, low moan out of Louis, and presses his mouth against the back of Louis’ head as he keeps it up. Doesn’t plan to stop until Louis has come at least twice more and Harry’s knot is almost too big to fit inside of him.

It’s so much, this, too much for Harry to form coherent words, groaning and making little noises that echo Louis’, get tangled up in them until that’s all he can hear, the two of them reacting to each other. He’s so hard, cock sliding inside of Louis easily, unable to resist biting him until he’s going to be littered with bruises in the morning, ones he’s going to be unable to hide. He’ll look like he belongs to Harry, like he should.

Louis is making noise, so loud it’s buzzing in Harry’s ears, just short ah ah ahs every time Harry nails his prostate, belly trembling underneath Harry’s hand, every part of him gone limp and easy except his cock. He comes again, whining and whimpering into the wall, slicking up Harry’s hand again, and Harry’s knot is pressing against his arse, demanding to be let in. Can’t hold out much longer.

“Say please for me, baby,” Harry murmurs, keeping his voice soft and deep, the way he knows it’ll go straight to Louis’ cock, make him want to do it. It’s unfair and manipulative and Harry doesn’t care even the slightest, wants to hear him say it before they knot. Needs to hear him say it before he knots, appease that part of him that’s still angry.

“ _Please_ ,” Louis says, barely louder than a breath, “Harry, _please_ , want it.”

Okay. Okay, that’s good. That’s so good. Harry gives it to him, impossible to stop at this point, knot swelling and locking in Louis’ hole, binding them together in yet another way.

“You’re mine,” Harry slurs, slipping his hands up to grip Louis’ hips, brain already gone hazy from the pleasure he feels coursing through his entire body. Especially his cock, throbbing, pulsing in Louis’ arse, ready to come. “My little omega prince, gonna be mine for the rest of your life.”

Louis sucks in a breath, his own hand slinking down his body, wrist flexing against Harry’s forearm as he makes a grab for his cock, starting pulling. He twists his back, moves his head until he can sink his teeth into Harry’s bicep, biting and pushy. Harry sighs, way more pleased by it than he should be, and can’t stop himself from starting to come, long slow pulses at first. Louis answers with his own orgasm, gasping tearily and clenching around Harry’s knot.

“Yours,” Louis echoes like an afterthought, mouth still wet and demanding against Harry’s arm. “Gonna - gonna take care of me.” 

It’s another thing that’s not a question. He’s demanding it the same way he demanded Harry’s heart, sure in the knowledge Harry will give it to him. “Yeah,” Harry whispers back, keeps it between the two of them. “Gonna take care of me?”

An omega isn’t made to take care of someone else the way a large part of society would have people believe, but this omega - _Harry’s omega_ \- is made to take care of Harry probably better than Harry will ever be able to take care of him.

That doesn’t mean Harry’s not going to try. For the rest of his life, he’s going to try.

“Already do,” Louis murmurs, sated and halfway to sleep. He’s warm and heavy in Harry’s arms, so trusting that Harry will be able to hold him up. Harry’s not going to disappoint him, not now. Not ever.

“I know,” Harry tells him softly, drawing Louis down with him onto the floor. It takes a minute and bit of effort to arrange them into a comfortable position, Harry’s back against the cold wall and Louis in his lap. Everything smells so good, right, both of their scents mixing together and filling the space.

He nods off a little, cock still dribbling come and Louis safe and warm on top of him, where Harry can see him, feel him. Smell him. It’s a while before his knot is small enough to slip out, and then it takes a lot of energy to get them over to the bed, but Harry manages.

They’re both asleep almost the instant their heads hit the pillow.

 

 

When Harry enters his cabin, sky gone dark and silent overhead, Louis is already there, lying in a bath, steaming water surrounding him, head tipped back, eyes closed.

He stirs when Harry enters the room, eyes flickering open. He has a glass of wine at his elbow, already smudged with lip prints.

“You’re late,” he murmurs, making no move to get out of the tub. “Said you’d be turning in early tonight.” 

There’s nothing accusatory in his tone, just simple observation. Harry doesn’t bother responding, reaching back to strip his shirt over his head. The reason he’s late is because they ran into some problems, but everything is sorted out and now he’s free to do whatever he likes. Whatever that may be right now.

“Join me,” Louis says, holding a hand out towards Harry. Harry hadn’t been planning on bathing right now, exhaustion in his every pore. Now that the suggestion is out in the air it sounds good, almost too good to be true, so Harry finishes stripping, nudging at Louis’ back until he lifts up to allow Harry to slide in behind him.

Water sloshes over the rim of the tub onto the floor, likely creating a mess. Harry doesn’t have the energy to care, and has even less when Louis relaxes back against him, curling up against Harry’s chest easily. He reaches out for his wine, taking a sip before offering it over his shoulder to Harry.

Harry takes it with wet fingers, draining the remainder of it, letting his other hand slip around Louis’ side to settle low on his belly, holding him. It almost feels impossible, how the tension of the day is melting right off of his shoulders with only a bath, a glass of wine and his omega against him.

Louis feels good under his hand, right. Harry lets his own eyes slip closed, inhaling the soft, fruity scent of Louis’ hair. “You’re quiet tonight,” he observes, setting the glass down blindly, uncaring of if it breaks.

“You’ve never told me why you raided that ship in the first place,” Louis says. “It was another pirate ship, wasn’t it?”

This is not necessarily a conversation Harry wants to have right now. In the quiet stillness of the room it’s easy to form the words, though, easy to let them flow. “Aye,” Harry agrees. “We wouldn’t have raided them if it wasn’t for the fact that they raided us first. It was revenge, pure and simple. We have a long standing history with the crew of _The Tide_ , and when we got the chance to exact our revenge we did.” He shrugs, the movement rippling the water around them. “I’ll tell you about it later if you want.”

Louis turns in his arms, just a little. “Tell me about why your ship is named _The Wandering Sparrow_ , then,” he says, letting it go easily. Harry squeezes him, kisses the side of his neck. He’s too tired for sex right now but that doesn’t do anything to ebb his enjoyment of having Louis in his arms.

“S’really not that complicated, my love,” he murmurs, gripping the underside of Louis’ knee and moving him up a bit, so he’s more fully seated in Harry’s lap. “My mother used to call me her little sparrow when I was young, and sparrows are social birds. Losing my family was like losing my flock, leaving me wandering.”

Louis twists his head enough to press a kiss to Harry’s shoulder. “You have a new flock now, though,” he says softly.

Harry squeezes him again. “Aye,” he agrees, because he does, and Louis is part of it. Louis will always be part of it.

 

“Alpha,” Louis says sweetly, leaning up against the door frame, bracing himself against the violent roll of waves racking the ship. There’s a storm raging outside, but it’s one the crew is ready for. Harry’s not too worried about it. Barring an extreme weather event they should be more than prepared for it.

Still, it’s Harry’s ship at stake should anything happen, so he’s a little distracted. Not too distracted to be immediately suspicious of the way Louis greets him. _Alpha_. He never calls Harry that, not unless he wants something.

“If you’ve come to make another strange demand you might as well just leave now,” Harry tells him, pulling a fresh shirt over his head. The last one had been soaked all the way through. Maybe he’ll set Louis to washing the clothes, give him something to do.

Louis hasn’t washed clothes a day in his life. Harry seriously doubts he’s about to start now.

“Captain,” Louis continues as though Harry hadn’t said anything, pushing himself off the door and allowing it to swing closed behind him, “I have a request.”

This isn’t going to go anywhere good. Harry reaches out for his hat, but before he can put it on Louis snatches it out of his hand and sets it atop his own head instead. He’s wearing an open, billowy shirt, one that doesn’t do much to show off the lines of his body.

Until he unbuttons it all the way, that is.

“No,” Harry says. “Whatever it is, no.”

Louis isn’t stealthy as he runs a hand up his chest, feeling himself up. “I want my share of the loot.”

Ah. Harry should have guessed this would come back to bite him in the arse at some point or another. He straightens up, draws his shoulders back. He isn’t going to give in to this whiny little omega. He’s not. “Aye? And why is that?”

Louis’ eyes narrow. He doesn’t stop touching himself. “Because I’m a member of this crew and I do my part,” he says, silk in his voice. It would be misleading if Harry didn’t know him so well.

There’s nothing else Harry has to fiddle with. It’s not preventing this conversation from happening anyway, so he strides right up to Louis, towering over him with ease. Louis doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down.

One of the downsides to having his omega on board his ship, Harry supposes. Louis isn’t exactly the _fall in line_ type.

“You’re _loot_ ,” Harry tells him, nudging Louis’ feet back with the toes of his shoes, until he’s pinned up against the wall with nowhere to go. “You belong to the Captain of this ship, who happens to be me. Loot doesn’t get a cut of the treasures we find.”

He doesn’t even have time to consider exactly how much trouble the words are going to get him in before they’re out of his mouth. It’s not untrue, exactly - Louis is listed as loot, and he is listed as belonging to the Captain, but he doesn’t really take well to being reminded of that fact. He’s more or less okay with it, Harry thinks, because he would be telling the entire world if he wasn’t, but sometimes he gets a bit stroppy about it. Like now.

“Aye,” Louis returns, half mocking and half not, “Never said I wasn’t. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m entitled to an equal share of the treasures we obtain, and I want it.”

Harry has Louis’ share of the loot tucked away in the back of his drawers, unspent and in full. It’s his for the taking, whenever he wants it, and Harry’s pretty sure Louis knows it’s there. He goes through the rest of Harry’s things on a regular enough basis, he has to know that it’s there by now. Which means that this conversation is completely pointless.

With the storm raging outside, Harry doesn’t have the time or the patience to figure out what Louis is getting at. “Well,” he says, letting his hand come up to touch Louis’ belly, thumbing across his navel, “it’s in the drawers, if you want it that bad.”

Louis’ face does this thing between frowning and smiling. “You would let me have it?”

Now Harry’s face is doing the thing between frowning and smiling. “Of course I would. You earned it, it’s yours.”

It’s a little hurtful that Louis would even have to ask. Of course Harry would let him have it - he’d let Louis have anything if he asked for it. Harry would let this omega rip his still beating heart right out of his chest if that’s what Louis wanted. He thought Louis knew that.

“Really?” Louis muses, reaching down to play with Harry’s fingers, not stopping him from his slow, gentle exploration of Louis’ belly. “Thought all you alphas wanted to provide for your omegas. But if you don’t want to - ”

He makes an aborted movement, one that’s clearly not going anywhere. Harry stops him anyway, pressing him back against the wall gently and raising his eyebrows. “Are you trying to tell me that I don’t provide for you, sweetheart? Because if that’s the case I’m certainly willing to sit down and listen to all your grievances.”

Now is not a good time to be having this conversation, what with the storm and everything. Liam is at the helm, though, and Harry has full confidence in his crew. They’ll call for him should they need him.

Abruptly, Louis drops the act. He winds his arms around Harry’s shoulders, stretching up onto his toes so he can press a kiss to Harry’s mouth. Automatically, Harry bends to make it easier for him. “No,” Louis says, right into Harry’s mouth. “I want you to provide for me. I just need money to get Danny a birthday gift.”

Harry rolls his eyes. They both know it’s a fond roll. “So why didn’t you just take some? Out of my stash, out of yours, doesn’t matter.”

Louis rolls his eyes right back. It’s also a fond eye roll, no matter how much scorn Louis is attempting to disguise it with. “Because I know that you’re dumb and you forgot about it,” Louis says. The sweet tone he was using earlier has completely dropped. It’s still endearing. “This is your one and only chance to go in on the gift with me. Otherwise I’m throwing you to the wolves and telling Danny that you completely forgot about his birthday. He’d never forgive you.”

Alright, Harry had forgotten. In his defense, they’ve been kind of busy lately, raiding three ships right after each other. And Danny’s birthday isn’t for another month anyway, so he still has plenty of time.

“I already know what I’m going to get him,” Harry says. He does, too, doesn’t even have to think about it. He’s going to get him the same thing he’s gotten him for the past three years - an all expense paid trip to a tavern in Shanghai. It’s one of Danny’s favourite cities in the world and they have a drink there that gets all of them hammered within an hour. Danny loves that place.

“Fine,” Louis says, not protesting as Harry slips his hand farther up his chest, rubbing over his nipple gently. “Don’t come crying to me when he likes my present better, though.”

There’s no way Danny will like Louis’ present better. Harry’s sure of it.

“I won’t,” Harry says, pinching a bit. Louis stays stubbornly quiet. “He’s not going to like your gift better anyway.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Louis says, making a face and flicking at Harry’s hand. Harry pinches harder, watching Louis hiss out a breath. Another minute or two of this and Louis would be putty in his hands, squirming and needy.

Harry lets go. “So what are you going to do with the money, then, if you don’t want it for Danny’s gift?”

Louis wets his bottom lip, leaving it shiny and a bit distracting. “I’m saving it for our baby,” he murmurs softly.

Harry’s brain goes blank. Did Louis just say what Harry thinks he said?

“Our future baby, Harry, don’t be daft,” Louis says, flicking at Harry’s chest. “You know, the baby you’re going to put inside me at some point. When we’re ready for one.”

As though he hasn’t just shocked Harry into silence, Louis ducks out from underneath his arm and makes his way to the door. “I want a girl, Harry, so if you don’t get it right the first time you’re just going to have to keep trying,” he calls, disappearing from view.

Harry huffs out a slightly incredulous laugh. It’s not a surprise, exactly - Louis hasn’t been hiding his desire for children, and he knows that Harry wants them too, someday, but they’ve never explicitly talked about it.

He should have known that Louis would bring it up when Harry is least suspecting it and then just walk away. It’s exactly what Harry should have expected.

 

 

“So,” Louis starts, tugging at a strand of Harry’s hair.

Harry’s muscles feel like jelly, but he’ll never not respond to that kind of challenge, so he pushes himself up onto his forearms and leans over Louis. “So?”

“ _So_ ,” Louis says pointedly, twisting the strand around his finger, “My heat is coming up.”

Oh. His heat. That will be - that’ll be fun. That will be _a lot of fun_.

“When?” Harry asks, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.

Louis laughs, patting Harry’s chest. He’s naked underneath him, and all of this heat talk is causing Harry’s cock to take an interest in the proceedings, even though they just went not even an hour ago. It won’t be a problem, though - that’s the best thing about mating an omega, their lack of need for refractory time. 

“Couple weeks,” Louis tells him, still patting Harry’s chest. “Want you to take me somewhere special.”

Somewhere special? Somewhere special like a place where anyone could see him, a place where anyone could figure out he’s an omega and try to take him from Harry?

Like he’s reading Harry’s mind, Louis rolls his eyes. “Somewhere no one else knows about,” Louis continues. “A beautiful, quiet place where we can be alone and no one will be able to hear the way you’re gonna make me scream until my voice gives out.”

Okay, that’s much more like it.

“Where?” Harry asks, settling down on his elbows, boxing Louis in. Preventing him from escaping.

Not that Louis seems like he wants to escape.

Louis licks his bottom lip, tugging Harry closer. “Anywhere,” he breathes. “Just - ” presses a soft, sweet kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, “Somewhere warm with a beach. Wanna fuck under the stars and let you carry me into the sea when I’m overheated and sticky.”

That sounds incredibly appealing. Harry almost can’t wait for the next two weeks to be over.

“Feed you mangoes and wine,” Harry says, turning his head just a fraction to their mouths slide together properly, brush of lips against lips. “Keep you full and happy.”

Louis’ hand slips down Harry’s bare chest to circle his cock. “You better, _alpha_.”

Yeah, Harry’s cock is definitely interested in another round.

 

“You know what we need?” Louis asks afterwards, head pillowed on Harry’s chest, lying between his legs, looking up at the ceiling, swaying gently above them. “A real bed.”

The door to the cabin is open, letting the cool sea breeze into the room. They’re not having sex, not anymore. Harry wants to take a quick nap, eyes too heavy to keep open any longer, and like a bloodhound with a sense for when Harry wants him, Louis hasn’t let him even make a token effort towards getting up.

“Why? You not happy with our little nest?” Harry murmurs, hand low on Louis’ belly, keeping them close together. Louis is rocking them slowly, one foot on the ground, and it feels nice. Harry might fall asleep mid-sentence. Louis probably won’t mind.

Probably.

“I’m royalty, you Neanderthal,” Louis says. He probably means it to be scathing, but Harry’s exhaustion is seeping into his pores, mellowing him out. It’s an interesting effect of the alpha-omega bond as it’s happening with a mating bite, one Harry never knew about before. 

If he wasn’t so tired he might find it a little scary. On second thought, though, it probably wouldn’t be affecting them like this if there was even the slightest chance they were in danger.

A little belatedly, Louis continues, “I’m used to a certain standard of comfort.”

Amused, Harry squeezes him a little. Louis lets out a little noise, something that’s almost a squeak. “Oh, you’re used to a _certain standard of comfort_ , are you?”

Louis makes an irritated noise and squirms around in Harry’s arms, nearly sending them tipping over. He manages to land himself so they’re chest to chest, facing each other. “Are you telling me you’re _not_ going to buy me a proper bed?”

His voice is a little dangerous. Harry slides his hands around to cup his arse. It might be a bad idea but it’s a bad idea Harry is willing to die for. “I’ll buy you a proper bed, little prince,” he whispers, squeezing Louis’ arse, filling his hands so perfectly, “and christen it with you the very same day.”

If they spend a little bit of time snogging after that, well. No one has to know.

No one except all the people who pass in front of the open door. Oops.

 

They reach the island before Louis begins displaying symptoms of his heat. He seems perfectly fine as Harry rows their lifeboat to shore, waving and blowing kisses to his adoring public as they disappear by view.

By which Harry means the crew, half of who are cheering and making obscene comments as they get farther and farther away. He can’t even feel annoyed, not really. They’re good-natured obscene comments, only being made because Louis is one of them. A part of their family.

If by family Harry means the person he plans on spending the rest of his life with. That’s a type of family.

Louis does absolutely nothing to help while Harry rows them to the island, lounging back in the boat wearing that loose shirt, open at the collar, and a pair of trousers hacked off into shorts, no shoes. He looks sun baked and relaxed, sweat already beginning to dampen his temples.

It doesn’t take long to reach the shore. Harry maneuvers their raft into a good position and then steps out, dragging it high enough the tide won’t sweep it away. 

“You ready?”

Louis tips his head back, shading his eyes from the sun with one hand, and says, “Carry me.”

Harry licks his bottom lip, grabs their bag from the boat. “You’re not even in heat yet.”

Louis frowns at him, pretty pink lips turning down at the corners. “So you’re planning to fuck me through my heat but you aren’t going to carry me to the place you’re going to do it.”

His objection makes absolutely no sense. He’s perfectly capable of walking himself, doesn’t need Harry to carry him. He’s still in control of all of his faculties. 

It doesn’t make sense but the alpha hovering in the back of Harry’s brain insists that it actually does. What kind of alpha doesn’t carry their omega when their omega wants to be carried anyway?

“You’re terrible,” Harry says, bending down to slip his arms underneath Louis’ back and arse and haul him up into the air. Immediately, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, tucking his face against his shoulder, almost sweet and quiet.

If that’s a sign of his heat Harry isn’t quite sure what he’s going to do. Louis being sweet and quiet isn’t something Harry has ever experienced, isn’t sure he has the capacity to handle.

That uncertainty stays with Harry as he walks them over the rough, pebbly sand, through the seaweed, up the beach until he reaches the soft sand, the right sand. The right place for their temporary home, for the place they’ll spend Louis’ heat. It’s very important that it’s the right place, the perfect place.

He sets Louis down on the sand gently before setting the bag down beside him and opening it up, pulling out the blanket first and getting it spread out on the ground. Louis lazes about, watching him with soft eyes.

Harry’s throat feels a little dry. He clears it, kneeling on the blanket awkwardly. “Is it starting?”

Slowly, Louis nods. There’s sweat dampening the hollow of his throat, the hair at his temples. Pink flush starting high on his cheeks. “You did good,” he murmurs softly. “Got me what I wanted.”

To be somewhere warm with a beach. Harry remembers.

Carefully, he slips his hands back under Louis’ body and lifts him onto the blanket. He’s warm to the touch, almost feverishly so, and docile. Easy. Might even do what Harry tells him to right now.

Harry isn’t sure how he feels about that.

“Come here,” Louis says, still soft, fingers tangling in the neck of Harry’s shirt. Pulls at him until Harry’s lying beside him, close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. “I’ve never spent my heat with anyone before.”

Harry knows that. Knows that he’s Louis’ first in a lot of ways. Feels like countless ways, sometimes, and sometimes that doesn’t feel fair, that Harry doesn’t have as many firsts left to give him in return.

There is the most important one, though - the first person Harry’s ever fallen in love with. The only person Harry’s ever going to be in love with. And that. 

That’s big.

“I know,” Harry says, curving his fingers around Louis’ hip. He seems to have been expecting an answer.

Louis’ smile is sweet and still so slow. “It’s freaking you out,” he observes. “At least a little. But I know you can take care of me, that you want to. That you’re going to make sure nothing hurts me.”

A little bit of the tension in Harry’s chest eases. “Well,” he says.

The smile on Louis’ face grows bigger, brighter. “You’re going to make sure nothing hurts me in a way I don’t want it to hurt,” he clarifies. “And I know this is strange for you right now, seeing me like this, but I’ll still be me. Just a quieter version of me, that’s all.”

Sweet little omega starting to sink into a heat and he still takes the time to reassure Harry. There’s no one in the entire world like him.

“Okay,” Harry says, leaning over Louis and bringing their mouths together. It’s only the very beginning of Louis’ heat, nowhere near the way he will be even a few hours from now, desperate and needy. Overwhelmed.

Harry is going to take care of him then, not because he has to or because he’s the only one around to do it but because he’s in love with Louis.

Irrevocably in love.

In the meantime, they kiss some more. There’s still time before Louis needs sex too desperately not to get it, and Harry wants his fill of kisses before all he wants to do is _bite_.

“My love,” Harry murmurs eventually, sweeping his thumb along Louis’ jaw. “You should have something to eat. Keep your strength up.”

Harry leans back and reaches into the bag to pull out the flask of ale and a hunk of the dried meat. He’s confident in his ability to find more than enough food on this island to hold them over until Louis’ heat is done, but it’s always nice to have a bit extra.

When Louis falls asleep after the first round, Harry will go and forage for the mangoes. It’s important to keep his promises.

Conversationally, Louis begins, “When I had my heats in the castle I was practically locked away in a tower. Left enough food for a week and abandoned as though I was some kind of monster. Never saw anyone, only knew that the guards were waiting outside of fortified steel doors to ensure that I didn’t emerge before my heat was done.”

Harry’s chest pangs. It’s not a surprising story, not really, but he still hurts for Louis, being young and scared and alone. “Felt like I was diseased,” Louis continues, taking a piece of the meat from Harry’s hands and tearing it into smaller, bite sized pieces. “Like I was _less_ , somehow, just because of the way I was born.”

“Baby,” Harry whispers, nearly crushed. Louis shushes him, pushing a piece of the meat past Harry’s lips, forcing him to either chew or choke.

Harry picks chew.

“You know how much I trust you,” Louis says, sitting up properly, taking one of Harry’s hands in his. “With my life, Harry, and I would have told you all of this anyway, but the reason I’m telling you _now_ is because I want you to know that this isn’t all on you. We’re in this together, and no matter what happens it will still be a thousand times better than any heat I’ve had before just because I’m spending it with you. Okay?”

Licking his lips, Harry responds, “What happened to the sweet, quiet omega from a few minutes ago? Miss that little omega.”

Louis is smiling even as he punches Harry in the stomach. “Just for that you’re going to have to feed me,” he orders, lying back again.

Harry feeds him.

 

It takes a few hours for Louis’ heat to really kick in. Harry watches it happen with fascinated eyes, watches him become more and more squirmy, more pliable, more cuddly. He wants to be close to Harry, doesn’t want to leave his side for any length of time.

His scent becomes thicker, even sweeter somehow. It’s got Harry trapped, couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

Before Harry knows it, it’s time. Louis stripped his shirt off a while ago, whining about being hot, and there’s sweat pooling in his navel now, across his collarbones. He’s gazing up at Harry with bright blue eyes, hair messy on his head, spread out behind him, lips parted. He’s not asking for it, for the sex to start now, but Harry’s not sure that he’s going to. Not sure that the omega in him is going to even think about asking for it when his alpha is right here, eager to take care of him.

It’s time.

“Louis,” Harry says firmly, pressing his thumb against the dip just beneath Louis’ lower lip. “Baby, I’m going to take off your trousers now. Lift your hips for me.”

He doesn’t ask, keeps his orders simple, direct. Leaves no chance for misunderstanding.

Louis lifts his hips, eyes fixed on Harry as he eases the trousers down, off of Louis’ body. He’s so good, so obedient, and while Harry wouldn’t want him like that forever there’s something satisfying about it, about knowing that there’s no one else in the world Louis would be this obedient for.

Or any amount of obedient.

“Good boy,” Harry says, rewards Louis with a kiss. It feels like more of a reward for Harry, loving and dirty all at the same time, the best omega in the world returning Harry’s kiss just as passionately as Harry’s giving it to him.

It’s a wonder they ever manage to do anything other than have sex. That isn’t even the effect of Louis’ heat talking.

“I love you,” Harry says, kneeling up just long enough to strip himself out of his own clothes, doing it as fast as he can so he won’t be away from Louis for too long.

“Love you,” Louis returns immediately, hands eager as they bury themselves in Harry’s hair the second he returns, naked skin against naked skin. Harry’s already hard, cock thick and full between his legs, pressing against Louis’ hip. The desperation Louis feels is bleeding straight into Harry’s body, turning both of their breathing choppy and fast. This round isn’t likely to last long, not when it feels like this.

Before Harry can so much as lift one of Louis’ legs to get access to his hole, Louis is rutting against his stomach and coming, practically yanking out a fistful of Harry’s hair as he does.

“Little prince,” Harry says, smashing the words against Louis’ mouth, suddenly desperate for them to be kissing. Anything else he says gets lost in the kiss, and he’s pretty sure he is still talking, doesn’t even know what. Doesn’t matter what. Hauls Louis’ leg up, wraps it around his waist.

Finally pushes two fingers inside Louis’ hole. He’s open enough for it, slick enough for it, has to be by now, hours into his heat. Maybe wouldn’t even need the fingering at all. Harry won’t take that chance, not now, not until later. Not until the third or fourth time at least, when Louis is well fucked and dripping Harry’s come.

“You can,” Louis tells him, hissing the words out into Harry’s mouth. “Fuck me.”

Quickly, Harry scissors his fingers, making space for himself easily. His cock throbs in tandem with the beat of Louis’ heart, fast and strong. Wants to bury himself in Louis and lose it, fuck him until neither of them can come any more.

He adds a third finger just to be sure, even though Louis is leaking slick down his wrist, so fucking wet Harry can practically taste it. That’ll be another thing for later, when Louis is sleepy and feels like he can’t come again. Harry will make him come just one more time, just once more to ensure he sleeps.

“ _Please_ ,” Louis begs, nails threatening to dig welts into Harry’s scalp, “Want it, alpha, _want it_ , now, please - ”

It’s the _alpha_ that does Harry in. He can never resist it, can never say no when Louis calls him alpha, and saying no to Louis calling him alpha while in heat?

Yeah, not gonna happen.

“Yes,” Harry responds, drawing his fingers out carefully if not slowly, pulling Louis’ other leg up around his waist, positioning them both at an angle that will make the first thrust easy. Presses the tip of his cock to Louis’ slick hole.

Hesitates.

“Love you,” Louis mumbles again, “babe. Harry. Alpha.”

He’s still reassuring Harry, even as lost in the sensations as he is. He’s everything Harry could ever ask for and more, and on that note Harry starts pushing inside, slow and steady, the same pace he uses every time.

It feels so good, all tight, clinging heat, overwhelming and bright. He can’t even imagine how it feels for Louis, finally having a cock inside of him during a heat, finally having _Harry’s_ cock inside of him during a heat. This is everything they’ve been building up to for the last year and it’s finally here. It’s finally here.

“I love you,” Harry repeats, closing his fingers around Louis’ cock just in time for him to come again, slicking up Harry’s belly with it. The smell of strawberries is even stronger now, mixing in with sweat and sex and come. It smells perfect.

Harry starts thrusting, pushing his hips deep and hard every time, and for a few minutes neither of them manage to form words. It’s too good for words, too good to be able to do anything other than moan and shake and shiver together, clutching at each other and refusing to let go.

At the base of Harry’s cock, his knot starts swelling. It won’t be long now before they’re tied together, alpha and omega the way they’re meant to be. The only truth behind the alpha and omega stereotypes are rooted in biology, and their biology dictates that this is the best way to have sex. Knotted.

Louis’ moaning gets high pitched, desperate as though he hasn’t already come twice. Harry shushes him, bites at his mouth, his jaw, over his throat until he finds the place that means the most to him, the place that holds Harry’s mark. The mark that Harry ensures never fades, never disappears.

The mark that will take their binding and make it permanent if Harry deepens it during this mating. This most important mating, their first heat together. If Harry bites him now there will be a bond between them that is almost impossible to break.

“My love,” Harry murmurs again, because of all the names he calls Louis this is the one that tugs deepest at his heart, the one that feels _right_. All the others feel right but this one is - perfect. It’s perfect.

“My love,” Harry repeats, enjoying the taste of it on his tongue, “I want to bite you. Here.”

Taps his fingers against the mark that’s already there in emphasis. They haven’t talked about it, at least not in the past couple of weeks, not in the time since Louis told him his heat was nearing, but before that they did. Before that, Louis had told him, in no uncertain terms, that when his heat arrived he wanted Harry to do it, to bite him and bind them together in a way no one would ever be able to dispute. He hadn’t stuck around to wait for Harry’s answer, simply said it and walked away, but he must know that Harry’s answer would have been a vehement yes.

Louis’ hand is shaky as he reaches up to caress Harry’s cheek. “Yes,” he tells him, “yes.”

All Harry has ever needed is Louis’ permission. His knot is flush against Louis’ arse, starts pushing into his hole, and then - 

Then Harry bites.

Immediately, Louis comes again, wailing underneath him, arse clenched as tight as he possibly can around Harry’s knot, unwilling to let him go. Harry’s teeth sink in and in and _in_ , a little sharper than normal due to the intent behind the bite, until the skin beneath them starts to open.

Louis’ blood is thin and rich on Harry’s tongue. There’s only a dribble of it, doesn’t need to be any more for the bite to take.

And it does. Takes. Seals them together, _binds them_. 

Harry comes.

Harry comes so hard and for so long he nearly blacks out. Doesn’t even really register any of it, other than the hot wet feeling of pulsing spurt after spurt into Louis’ hole, until their scents are mingling beyond anything that’s ever happened before. Other than Louis’ skin under his teeth and his body under Harry’s, giving Harry everything he has.

He’s pretty sure Louis comes again. Pretty sure Louis comes again more than once. Harry doesn’t register it, only coming out of it when his knot has shrunk all the way down, leaving only his cock filling Louis’ arse.

Louis is still conscious, but only just. His hands are gentle on Harry’s back now, simply holding him. Harry presses his face against Louis’ collarbones, trying to catch his breath. Lying motionless on top of Louis with the smell of their sex in the air feels right, nice. And it’s not like Louis is protesting, either, gone sweet and quiet again.

Now Harry knows what to do with that, though. He can talk for both of them.

“Gonna be mine forever,” he murmurs, getting it out of the way as he pulls out, momentarily sad at the thought of his come slipping out. Irrational, he knows, in more ways than one. Still a little sad.

Then he starts up a mantra of soft things, sweet things, letting Louis know how much Harry _cherishes_ him as he wipes the pool of come off his stomach, cleaning him up a bit. It’s not time to wash off in the sea, not yet. Harry can feel the tug of Louis’ heat low in his belly even now, calling to him. They’re far from finished.

“Sleep now, my love,” he tells Louis, drawing the corner of the blanket up to cover him, lend him some warmth. “You’ll need your strength for the next round.”

Louis’ eyes are fluttering closed, but he still reaches out to close his fingers around Harry’s wrist. “I love you,” he breathes again. “Alpha.”

Harry spends a bit more time kissing him before he lets Louis fall asleep.

 

Louis sleeps for a bit between round one and round two. And between round two and round three. Both he and Harry sleep between round three and round four.

After round five Harry gets up and forages for some food, collecting mangoes and berries and nuts off of nearby trees, unwilling to stray too far from the camp they’ve set up. Once that is done, he gathers wood for a fire. The nights don’t get too cold here, but they’re significantly colder than the days. The only reason last night didn’t feel too cold was because they were having sex almost the entire night.

Then, once all that is done, it’s time for round six. And round six? That’s quite memorable.

 

Harry lasts all the way until round nine before the urge to put his tongue into Louis’ arse and see if he tastes any different there when he’s in heat overcomes him.

Louis is still sleeping, sprawled out on his stomach with his arms tucked under his head. He doesn’t normally sleep like that, normally sleeps either with his back to Harry’s chest on his side or just flat on his back with an arm tossed carelessly over Harry’s face.

During the last round Harry had taken him like that, though, with his thighs and forearms trembling trying to hold himself up, sinking closer and closer to the ground with every thrust. He’d ended up all but pressed face first against the blanket, leaving Harry to hold him up if he wanted to have any leverage whatsoever.

It had been pretty nice, both visually and physically.

It also leaves Louis in the perfect position to be eaten out. For the past twenty minutes or so, Harry has been lying here, drinking in his fill of Louis’ naked body, and now he’s more than ready to act on the arousal thrumming through his veins.

Harry starts with two fingers running down the crease of Louis’ arse, dipping between his warm cheeks, breath catching at the wetness he finds between them. It’s a mixture of slick and Harry’s come, and that. That is intoxicating.

Not so much that it’s Harry’s come, obviously. But that Louis has been letting Harry put it in him, over and over.

Okay, so maybe Harry gets a little bit stupid after having this much sex. He’s not too stupid to remember his goal, though, and he dips down the press a kiss to Louis’ left cheek. Then the right, because he can’t just leave one out. Then he spreads Louis’ cheeks apart properly and licks at him, come and slick collecting on his tongue.

Actually, it doesn’t taste half bad. Mostly it tastes like Louis’ slick. Encouraged, Harry licks at him a little harder, pointing his tongue and pushing it past Louis’ rim.

Louis makes a little mumbly noise and shifts, hips moving against the blanket. He’s starting to wake up, slow and steady. Doesn’t quite seem to know what’s going on.

Harry wiggles his tongue insistently, poking it around, exploring as much of Louis’ hole as he can reach.

“Ah,” Louis breathes out eventually, coming back to life. Rocks his hips back against Harry’s face as though he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. “’m tired, babe.”

He must be saying it because he has a point. Harry’s willing to let him make it. It’s benevolent of him, he knows. Removing his tongue from Louis’ hole, he says, “I know, baby. Just need to give me one more before you can sleep.”

Louis must be feeling spacier than Harry realized, because he responds, “Fuck?”

It’s not even a full sentence. Only a single word, one that somehow manages to get his meaning across anyway. He’s asking if Harry intends to fuck him one more time before he can sleep.

Harry’s cock throbs at the thought. Passing up an opportunity to fuck Louis, to _knot him_ , especially now that the mating bite has really taken hold, will always be rough. Harry’s hind-brain will probably always insist that a knotting is the right way to go, that it’s absolutely necessary.

Luckily, Harry’s still capable of rational thought. More or less. He knows that Louis is exhausted, that he’s fucked out. That he wants sleep, needs it. So no, Harry’s not going to fuck him again. Harry’s going to get Louis off with his tongue, coax him into one more orgasm, and then while Louis drifts in and out of sleep Harry is going to wrap his hand around his own knot and come all over Louis’ back. That’s what Harry is going to do.

“No, my love,” Harry says, just loud enough for Louis to hear him over the crash of waves behind them. “Just one more orgasm and then you can sleep, baby, I promise.”

Louis all but sinks back into the blanket, muscles going lax and trusting. “Okay,” he agrees.

“Good,” Harry croons, parting Louis’ arsecheeks again and laving his tongue over his hole, getting him even wetter. Now that Harry is listening for it, Louis’ little hitched breaths are like music to his ears, flattering and soft. The taste of him is unbelievable, a little less sweet and a little more sour now that he’s got Harry’s come inside of him, but it still tastes ridiculously good.

Harry can’t get enough of it, pushing his tongue back inside Louis’ hole, tip pointed and stiff. It’s easy to get lost in it, to feel like he’s been drugged. Definitely harder to concentrate. Somehow, Harry manages, curling his fingers around Louis’ hips as he pulls out every trick he knows. Presses his teeth gently to the rim.

Turns out it was a good idea to hold Louis’ hips steady. He tries to buck up, whining high and lovely in the back of his throat, nearly wiggling right out of Harry’s grip. Harry holds him harder, wiggles his tongue in deeper. Can’t stop himself from making his own noises, an echo of Louis’ moans that get lost in between his cheeks.

The vibrations must feel good for Louis. That’s all it takes him to come, moaning so loud it’s nearly a shriek.

Harry doesn’t waste any time pulling his tongue out and rushing up onto his knees. His cock is so hard between his legs he’s going to go off any second, purely from eating Louis out and listening to the noises he made during it.

“Baby,” he mumbles, hand already wrapped around the swollen base of his cock, eyes fixed on Louis’ arse in front of him. “So good for me, came so nicely. Can’t believe how good you are.”

All Louis does is make a vague humming noise, one that could be taken as agreement if pressed. He’s folded up so nicely, presented for Harry’s eyes to feast upon, and he’s probably not even doing it consciously.

It’s still going to make Harry come.

“Shh,” Harry mumbles, even though Louis isn’t really making any noise, “shh, my love, I know, gonna come and let you go to sleep, I promise.”

“Okay,” Louis mumbles back, not sounding as though he even knows what he’s agreeing to. The soft, raspy lilt of his voice is fucked out, tired and trusting, and that’s what it takes to make Harry come. Grabs his knot and squeezes, gritting his teeth together as the first wave of come pulses out of him.

And the next. And the next.

By the time he’s done, there’s come all over Louis’ back, his arse. He’s practically covered in, already streaky and drying. Harry nearly melts back down against Louis’ back, sighing into the nape of his neck. The alpha in him is so satisfied, pleased with itself. For marking his omega like this, making it clear who he belongs to.

He smells like Harry, now. And that’s what he should smell like.

 

By the time Louis wakes up again, his heat has simmered to a slow boil instead of the overwhelming force it was a few hours ago. It’s not over, not yet, but they’ve been given a reprieve for now. For a bit.

“Got come all over me,” Louis slurs, muscles in his back rippling as he stretches.

Harry swipes a hand over it gently. The come is dry and flaky, and it should be disgusting. Revolting, even.

It’s not.

“Itchy?” Harry asks. Louis licks his lips slowly and shakes his head, eyebrows slipping down as he thinks about it.

“No. Just. A little bit stiff.”

Harry’s laugh is a little hoarse, exhausted. “Yeah.” He rolls Louis over and get his arms underneath him, picks him up carefully. Wades out into the sea carefully, hissing at the cool water lapping at his toes. He’s just as careful as he gets deep enough that the water comes up to his chest, lapping at Louis’ back.

If Louis wasn’t in heat soap would be ideal. He is, though, and Harry can barely stand to let him wash off as it is. The thought of covering the lingering scent of the two of them with soap has Harry’s hackles rising. The salt is bad enough as it is.

Louis doesn’t do much to help as Harry washes him off. He barely even stands on his own two feet as Harry cups water and lets it trickle over his shoulders, nosing against Harry’s collarbone. The water doesn’t feel as cold now, surrounding them. The sun overhead is warm but not overly so, sky blue and cloudless. It’s a nice day.

It doesn’t take long to get them rinsed off. Once it’s done Harry slips his arms back around Louis’ shoulders, tugging him closer. “I love you,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth across Louis’ cheek until he finds his lips. Louis kisses back eagerly, lips parting underneath Harry’s tongue, allowing him entrance.

The kiss is slow and wet and deep, languid. Harry forgets about the water moving against them, forgets about the mangoes they have waiting for them on the blanket, forgets about everything that isn’t this. Everything that isn’t the taste of Louis’ mouth.

It has to break eventually, and when it does Harry carries Louis back out of the water without even being prompted, laying him down on the blanket gently.

“Mango,” Louis demands, flicking one in Harry’s direction. Harry rolls his eyes, but he grabs his knife and starts cutting it into slices, juice running down his fingers. He knows what Louis is going for, can smell the heat starting to thicken up again.

Louis takes the first piece between his teeth easily, flesh of the fruit sinking between his lips obscenely. He chews slowly, nearly nipping Harry’s fingers a time or two in the process, and swallows. Harry licks his own lips as he presses another piece between Louis’, unable to tear his eyes away as Louis sucks his fingers into his mouth this time.

Between his legs, hanging free, Harry’s cock throbs. The heat is definitely thickening, strengthening. It won’t be long until Louis needs it again, until he’s begging and pleading and screaming for Harry to knot him.

“Taste good?” Harry asks, rasp in his voice from how much this is affecting him.

Louis makes an obscene noise in response. That pretty much puts an end to the mango-eating portion of the day.

 

It takes another three rounds before Louis’ heat subsides. It’s almost entirely over now, only a few hours left. Harry can feel the bone-deep contentment rolling off of Louis, feels it in his own skin. He did good. Knotted his omega over and over until he was satisfied and sleepy.

In the morning Liam will have brought the ship back around to pick them up, but for now they still have time to enjoy each other’s company.

The moon is shining bright and full above them, stars twinkling in the deep darkness of the sky. Louis is a warm, heavy weight against Harry’s chest, lying between his legs with his back to Harry’s chest. Their fingers are tangled together atop Louis’ bare belly, and they’re even mostly clean. The last round had been in the sea, letting the water rock them together gently. It had been interesting, to say the least, and it definitely wouldn’t have done the trick the first ten times. Now, though, it had been enough. Good. It had lasted a while, too, leading to a bone-deep orgasm that left Harry shaky afterwards.

“Let’s dance,” Louis murmurs eventually, squeezing at Harry’s fingers. He pulls Harry to his feet, leading him a few steps away from their little camp. Fits them together perfectly and starts swaying to the beat of an imaginary orchestra.

Harry pulls Louis in by his arse. Close enough will never be close enough, not with Louis. Especially not the way Louis smells when he’s in heat.

These dances are a thing that Louis needs, that he enjoys. That being said, Harry loves them. Harry _loves them_. It’s different now that they’re actually together, less about sex and more about being together. They’re intimate and sensual without needing to be sexy, and Harry just - he loves them. Loves the feeling of having Louis wrapped up in his arms like that, loves knowing that he’s giving Louis something he needs. Dancing doesn’t have to be something Louis loses because he’s part of a pirate crew.

Sand kicks up around their feet as they move, swaying together slowly. It’s still not a proper dance, and probably will never be, but it’s right for them. 

It lasts for a long time, much longer than they’ve ever danced before. Harry’s feet are beginning to feel a slight ache towards the end of it, sweat prickling at his temples, but he barely even notices. This feels too good.

“I knew you were the right choice,” Louis says, almost whispering the words into the still air between them.

Harry kisses him. It’s the only proper response.

 

In the morning, Harry is downright exhausted. Turns out that getting one’s mate through a heat is a lot different than spending a heat with a random omega. He gets Louis back onto the ship and into the cabin, and then - then they just sleep. For hours.

 

 

“It’d be really helpful if you stopped glaring daggers at anyone who steps a little bit too close to him,” Liam says, drawing Harry’s attention back to the task at hand.

Normally, one of Harry’s favourite things is bartering the treasures they’ve obtained - raided, to be specific - for supplies. Affecting that blank, dead eyed stare he learned from Zayn years ago and watching vendors squirm and lower their prices is something he probably takes too much enjoyment from. Not as much as he enjoys a good sword fight, but close.

Normally Louis doesn’t wander around and flirt with every half decent looking male patron either, though. This isn’t exactly how it normally goes.

“I’m just making sure no one recognizes him,” Harry says, forcing himself to look back at the pile of items they’ve dumped on the table. They’re supposed to be sorting the silver from the gold right now, in full view of the owners of this fine establishment so they know they’re not being cheated.

Much.

Harry’s having a hard time concentrating on the task when he knows Louis is making a spectacle of himself. The last thing they need is for someone to recognize him and try to turn a profit off of that knowledge. Harry hasn’t spent the last few months putting up with everything Louis does to intentionally irritate him only for him to be kidnapped.

Liam rolls his eyes. “No you’re not,” he says disagreeably. “You’re trying to make sure that he doesn’t wander off into any dark corners with a bloke who isn’t you. You’re not exactly being subtle about it.”

“I’m not doing that,” Harry denies. He’s not.

“You are,” Liam says, tossing a silver bracelet into the corresponding pile. “It’s like you keep forgetting that you slow dance with him almost every night underneath the stars. I’m pretty sure you don’t have to worry about him leaving you, Harry.”

Harry worries about Louis all the time. Being kidnapped, mostly, but occasionally a sliver of doubt will go through him - Louis puts on a good front, but when all his layers are stripped away he’s still a prince. _The_ prince, in fact, the first prince of England, and there’s no reason he should want to spend the rest of his life with someone like Harry.

He does, though, and Harry will continue believing that.

He also worries about what would happen if Louis decided to leave of his own volition, done with the pirate life, or what would happen if someone recognizes him, or what would happen if the Navy catches up to them. Worrying is a thing Harry excels at.

Instead of saying any of that, Harry looks in Louis’ direction very pointedly and asks, “So I shouldn’t be worrying about the fact that he’s currently flirting with some guy I’ve never seen before in my life?”

“Oh, no, you should definitely be worried about that,” Liam says easily. “But only because his flirting means he’s angry with you, not that he’s trying to hook up with someone else.”

Normally Liam would be right about that, except this time Harry hasn’t actually done anything to deserve it. Pointing that out would only make Liam look at him all judgmentally, though, and Harry doesn’t want to be judged right now.

Harry slaps his hands against the table and pushes himself up out of his chair. “You can handle this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, striding over to where Louis is perched on a bar stool, leaning forward, almost into this random bloke’s space.

The alpha in Harry bristles, the part of him he really only unleashes during a raid or a fight - or a fuck - rages up, demanding to be released. He’s not fifteen anymore, and he’s perfectly capable of keeping himself under control, so all he does is lay a hand on the back of Louis’ neck and squeeze a little.

“Time to go,” he says simply.

Louis doesn’t even do him the courtesy of turning to look at him. “I’m talking,” he says, leaning forward just enough that Harry’s hand slips down his back, clearly attempting to dislodge it without making it obvious.

Harry’s gut prickles with heat. “We’re leaving,” he repeats, keeping his hand pressed up against Louis’ back, unwilling to let the contact disappear.

The glance Louis shoots him over his shoulder is both unamused and impatient. “I’ll meet you on the ship,” he says, still brushing Harry off. Every single word drips with contempt.

The way Harry sees it, he has three options right now. One, keep trying to convince Louis to leave out of his own free will and ultimately fail. Two, physically _make_ Louis leave and endure days of a cold, lonely bed and Louis refusing to acknowledge his presence. Three, walk away and let Louis do what he wants.

None of the options are good options.

“Fine,” Harry says shortly, turning around and striding right out of the tavern, trusting that Liam will handle their business. Maybe he’s storming out and looks like a child, but no one’s going to point that out.

Well. Louis probably would, but Louis is also too busy flirting with some other guy right now.

 

Harry goes all the way back to the ship, slamming the cabin door behind himself, and waits.

And waits. And then waits some more, because Louis doesn’t come back.

Whatever. It’s fine. Harry’s not worried. Louis is more than capable of taking care of himself, something he’s proven repeatedly. He will come back when he’s ready to come back, and hopefully he’ll be calm and rational once he does. There’s nothing Harry can do until then.

 

He’s not calm and rational. He’s not even _close_ to being calm and rational. Harry wakes up an indeterminable amount of time later to his arms immobilized over his head and Louis’ weight sitting heavily on his hips, the heat in the room almost stifling.

And a knife pressed to his throat.

Instantly, Harry’s pulse picks up. He doesn’t move aside from testing the ropes binding his arms, seeing if he can work the knots loose. Can’t.

“Louis?” he asks, careful to keep his tone calm and even. “Is there a reason you’re holding a knife to my throat?”

“Yeah, _baby_ ,” Louis says, knife threatening to bear down harder, eyes deep blue and almost manic. “Wouldn’t be holding a knife to you without a good reason, would I.”

Under normal circumstances Harry wouldn’t think so. It’s fairly obvious these aren’t normal circumstances. “Do you want to tell me _why_ you’re holding a knife to me?” he ventures.

Louis’ nose wrinkles with his snarl. “You fucking _know_ why, you bastard.”

Alright then. That was very helpful. “And presuming I don’t?” Harry presses, rotating a wrist again. This conversation would be much easier to have with at least one hand free, be able to touch Louis’ back or his hip. Somewhere that’s not necessarily sexual but will still get his attention.

Although having his attention doesn’t really seem to be the problem right now.

“Then you’d be fucking _lying_ ,” Louis spits, knife trembling just enough to be noticeable. Harry isn’t sure whether that’s a good sign or not. “Because you’re a fucking liar and that’s what liars do. They lie.”

Clearly it’s time to change tactics. Getting Louis to actually tell him what he’s so pissed about isn’t working.

“You want to know what I’ve never lied about?” Harry asks, curling his fingers in the open slots of the hammock. They’re swaying a bit dangerously, but it’s not as though Harry’s in any position to do something about that. “How happy I am when I’m with you.”

Louis huffs out a disbelieving sound. Maybe this was the wrong tactic to change to. “You’re so fucking full of yourself, arsehole. Should fucking sell you to the Navy as soon as I get the chance. Or maybe give you up to another pirate crew. You could be their deck boy.”

So that’s how it’s going to be, then. Okay. Harry can handle this.

“And what would you do?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. “Pirates only want one thing from omegas, after all.”

Louis’ expression wavers. Not a lot, just enough that Harry can keep pressing. Guilt sits low in his stomach, using this against Louis, but he doesn’t see another way. “And you don’t want that, do you,” he says, tugging at the ropes again. They don’t shift. “Don’t want anyone but me inside of you, making you feel good, making you come. Don’t want any other alpha doing that.”

“You should be so lucky,” Louis says, shifting restlessly on top of Harry, leaning up so his thighs rub together briefly before settling back down, paying no regard to Harry’s comfort or where his cock is.

It takes a minute, but Harry smells it. The sweet, strawberry scent of Louis’ slick, only barely present. Only slightly damp. Not quite turned on, not yet, but easily tipped into it.

Once again, Harry changes his tactics. But only slightly this time, only a bit. “That’s what I want,” he says, trying to ignore the itch on his upper arm. “For you to be mine to love and fuck and fight, the only one for me.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Louis says, regaining his anger and pressing the knife back into Harry’s throat. “I should slit your throat and leave you here to rot, run off with another pirate crew.”

“And when one of them decides to use you for themselves?”

Harry shouldn’t have said it. Louis says he’s not scared of anything like that happening, but they’ve talked about what those few days were like for him aboard The Tide. Harry knows how terrified he was, how he still dreams about it sometimes, about being forced, taken against his will. How Harry’s crew rescuing him didn’t feel like a rescue for the first few days. It’s not something Harry wants to be the cause of Louis reliving in his head.

“I would figure something out,” Louis says shortly, angrily.

“Would you plead the belly?” Harry asks softly, canting his hips up so Louis settles onto him more firmly, sharp blade of his knife still pressing against Harry’s throat, threatening to draw blood. “Tell them you’re full with child? Lie to save your own skin?”

Louis’ eyes are wild, fierce. “Telling them I’m full with your child wouldn’t save my life,” he snarls, pressing the tip of the blade down a little harder.

“Could be anyone’s child,” Harry says, ignoring the flash of anger, hurt, in the pit of his stomach at the thought. The rope rubs against his wrists, still not loose enough to do anything with. “Doesn’t have to be mine, if you’re caught.”

“Is that what I should tell them, then?” Louis hisses, fire crackling from his every pore. “That the great pirate Captain Styles let his omega run off and get himself filled with someone else’s child?”

The tightening in Harry’s chest demands that he say no. Instead he says, “If it will save your life.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Louis spits out, knife still pressed uncomfortably close to Harry’s throat.

He’s angry enough that he might actually do it. Harry has no idea what he’s so angry about, but it might be time he finds out.

Before he gets his throat slit.

“ _What_?” Harry demands, the word bursting out of him way too hard. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Louis repeats, venom in his tone and ice in his eyes. “I fucking _saw_ you with that whore.”

“Gina?” Harry asks stupidly, reflexively, wincing when the knife presses into his throat harder. “Gina’s just a friend, baby.”

Louis laughs. It’s a short, unamused sound. “So I suppose that I’m _just a friend_ as well?” he asks bitingly. “All those times you told me you loved me, you were just lying to get into my pants?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Harry says honestly, turning his wrists over again, trying one more time to find a weak spot in the knots, get himself free. This conversation would be going very differently if he was able to touch Louis properly, convince him that Harry’s telling the truth that way. “You know you’re the only one for me, sweetheart.”

“I _don’t_ know that,” Louis says, drawing the knife away from Harry’s neck and wiping it against his own thigh, tiny little hint of blood appearing against his skin. Not his own. Harry’s.

For the first time, Harry lets himself appreciate that Louis is completely naked on top of him. He doesn’t understand how Louis’ brain works half the time, doesn’t want to understand why Louis thought it would be a good idea to get naked before climbing on top of Harry in the bed they share while Harry is tied up and unable to do anything about it, but he can appreciate it. Appreciate the scent of him seeping into the thin cotton of Harry’s trousers, probably slick, properly wet now if Harry were to touch him between his arse cheeks.

The smell of it hangs in the air, thick and cloying, begging for attention. 

“You do,” Harry says, shifting his hips so Louis falls a little more naturally on them, a little more comfortably, sitting right on his cock and not making a single move to do anything about it. If Harry wasn’t tied up he would be rectifying that situation right now. “You know how much I love you.”

“So you’re just the cheating type, then,” Louis says, sliding his thumb across the edge of the blade, eyes fixed on it. “Doesn’t matter. It’s the same either way.”

Harry’s not the cheating type. His lifestyle isn’t conducive to a proper relationship, at least it wasn’t until he met Louis, but he knows he’s not the cheating type.

Now he has to convince Louis of that.

“So slit my throat, then,” Harry says, meeting Louis’ gaze head on. “If you’re so sure I would fuck someone else when I have you.”

Louis’ conviction wavers, just the tiniest little bit. Harry continues, “I would deserve it, after all. I wouldn’t blame you. If I’m not satisfied with the loveliest omega in the entire world falling apart on my knot I deserve any punishment you can come up with.”

Louis remains silent, knife still resting against his own thigh. “That’s you, by the way,” Harry says, letting his voice go soft and gentle. “You take my breath away with how lovely you are, how fierce and loyal. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we first took you aboard and you know it. Use it against me whenever you see fit.”

With his eyelashes lowered like this, Harry can’t tell what Louis is thinking. Whether it’s good or bad, he doesn’t know. Could go either way still.

Continues, “You’re the love of my life and I need you to believe that. Christ, Louis, I barely even _look_ at anyone but you, much less want something with them. I only want you.”

There’s silence. It lasts long enough that Harry almost starts thinking Louis isn’t going to believe it. Then, suddenly, Louis says, “Prove it.”

Prove it. Prove it how?

Before Harry can ask, Louis is shifting again, nearly sending the hammock all the way over, bracing himself with one leg on the ground and hovering over Harry’s face. The scent of his slick is even stronger like this, gone fully wet instead of just damp. It smells so good and all Harry wants to do is taste it, just a little.

Turns out that’s what Louis wants too, sitting on Harry’s face with no regard for their precarious position. They’re almost certainly going to tip over, and if Harry didn’t want Louis so much he would say that. As it is, the only real option is to start licking, swiping his tongue slow and careful over Louis’ hole, taste of slick sweet and sharp on his tongue. Above him, Louis sighs, one hand sliding into Harry’s hair. He presses down for more, demanding and pushy, and Harry gives it to him, licking into him deeper, opening him up on his tongue.

Harry will always give it to him.

It doesn’t take long for Louis’ noises to go hiccupy and soft above him, whiny. He’s about to come, then, just from Harry’s tongue inside of him, and normally Harry would tell him something right now, something about how beautiful he is or how good he sounds or how much Harry loves him. Right now, he can’t do that, not with Louis sitting on his face like this. All he can do is listen to as Louis comes, shaking apart over Harry while Harry can’t even touch him.

Louis slips a bit as he comes, intentionally or not Harry doesn’t know. Either way, it gives him the space to be able to say, “Not gonna be able to fuck you when I’m tied up like this, baby.”

His voice comes out slurred and gentle. It’s probably a good thing - even in the haze of his orgasm Louis would probably be able to find the energy to get angry at Harry again. And leave him tied up.

It’s a few seconds before Louis moves, clumsy and languid as he slides back down Harry’s body, fingers slow as he undoes the knots. He’s gone all soft and sweet the way he does when Harry gives him a good orgasm, pliant. He wants Harry to take care of him now, take over, and Harry is going to do that. He’s going to do that so well.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” Harry murmurs, shaking his wrists out, trying to get some of the feeling back in them before he sits up slowly, careful not to jostle Louis. His cock is hard and ready to go, slipping along the wet crease of Louis’ arse as if it’s going to slide in by itself.

“Promise,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and holding on as Harry gets one foot onto the ground and then a second one.

It doesn’t really make sense, Louis’ response. _Promise_. Promise that he’s not going to move? Doesn’t really seem like the type of thing Louis would waste time promising, even when he’s sex high and malleable.

“Promise,” Louis repeats, more insistently this time, staying very still as Harry stands up, hands tight under his bum to make sure he doesn’t fall.

Suddenly, it clicks. _Promise_. He wants Harry to promise that he’s the only one Harry will ever have eyes for.

“Promise,” Harry tells him, halting halfway to the mountain of blankets on the ground acting as a mattress to kiss him again, short but deep. “You’re the only one for me, baby, I promise. Never want anyone else the way I want you.”

Louis sighs, head tipping back as Harry lays him down onto the blankets, still slow and careful. He kneels over Louis’ body and brushes his hair out of his face. “You still want it?”

Harry would be okay without. Not ideally, obviously, but if Louis is done, doesn’t want to get fucked any more Harry will squeeze his own hand his knot, get off that way. Maybe even coat Louis with it, make him smell like he’s all Harry’s. Because he is and Harry will prove it to him over and over again if that’s what he needs.

“Want it,” Louis tells him, reaching up to run his thumb over the curve of Harry’s jaw. “Slow, yeah? Go slow.”

Slow will be hard with the way Louis looks right now, naked and flushed, come already starting to dry on his belly. Slow will be hard knowing that Harry’s mouth was just on his bum, tongue just inside of his hole, knowing that he made Louis come from it.

But he’ll try.

“Okay,” Harry says, pulling one of Louis’ legs up around his hip and spearing him with two fingers. He’s already loose enough to take it, slippery wet around the digits, opening up easily.

His pretty little mouth still parts in a gasp, throat bobbing as he swallows. Harry fastens his own mouth there, sucking a mark into Louis’ neck, one that will take days to fade. He’s so invested in it he almost forgets to move his fingers, buried in Louis’ arse as far as they’ll go.

“A little - ” Louis says, voice catching a bit, vibrations of the words bouncing off of Harry’s lips, “A little faster.”

A little faster than this slow. Harry can work with that.

“You want a third?” Harry asks, just to be sure. _A little faster_ probably means he’s ready but Harry wants to be sure, needs to be sure. Can’t ever take the risk of hurting Louis.

Louis shakes his head, digging his fingernails into the back of Harry’s neck. His tongue swipes across his lip quickly, wetting it. “No. Want your cock.”

That’s a demand Harry can get behind. He slips his fingers out easily, lifts Louis a little higher with one hand underneath his back, and lines his cock up with Louis’ hole. Starts pushing in nice and slow, just like Louis told him to.

“Nice,” Louis mumbles, fingers laced behind Harry’s neck now, just holding on. His eyes are mostly closed, cock drooping a bit like it can’t decide whether it wants to be hard or not anymore, wet at the tip. Later Harry’s going to suck him until he comes at least three times. “Feels good.”

Good. The only thing Harry wants right now is to make his omega feel good, satisfy him. He keeps pushing in, inch after inch, keeping that slow, steady pace, until his cock is all the way inside Louis’ arse. 

“You feel good too,” Harry whispers, almost pained. Cranes his neck to make their mouths brush together, not even really a kiss at this point. He’s almost painfully hard, so ready to come, but he won’t, not until Louis says it’s okay. “So good, baby.”

It’s so true Harry can barely believe it, every part of him tingling right down to his toes. He brushes a thumb over the tiny little swell of Louis’ nipple just because he can, mouth flooding with saliva at the thought of tasting it. That’s another thing for later, a thing for when Harry has more coherence to work with. More focus.

Because the only thing he can focus on right now is his knot, swollen at the base of his cock, begging to receive entrance into this gorgeous omega. The one Harry’s marked as his own, the one whose innocence Harry stole and doesn’t plan on returning.

“You can,” Louis says, twisting his fingertips through Harry’s hair. “Know you wanna knot me, get me all full.”

Harry does. Both want to and actually does it, pressing his knot inside of Louis and holding them both there, mouth pressed against the base of Louis’ throat as it swells, teeth freshening the mark there, locks them together. Hears the breathy sounds of Louis whimpering above him, clutching Harry as close as humanly possible. Comes a little bit more, cock wet and slippery against Harry’s belly. It’s messy and slick and everything sex should be.

“Good,” Louis murmurs, shaky fingers combing through Harry’s hair. “S’good, love.”

Petting him back takes a lot of focus, focus Harry barely has. He tries anyway, mouth open and helpless to move away from that spot in Louis’ throat as he starts coming, breathing damp and hot over his skin. He smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good. He’s all Harry can concentrate on - twenty armed men could burst into the room and he probably wouldn’t even notice.

“Good,” Harry hums back at him, hands roaming every inch of Louis’ body he can touch, pressing his knee closer to Harry’s side and rocking him up a bit, trying to make it as good for him as possible. “You gonna come again?”

His knot is still going strong, pumping Louis full of come. Slowly, Louis shakes his head, hair tickling Harry’s forehead. “Don’t think so. Tired.”

It takes a lot of effort to push himself up onto his elbows so he can look down at Louis’ face. “Hurts?”

“No,” Louis says quietly, arms still looped around Harry’s neck. He gives Harry a small, quiet smile, lips deep pink and plush from kissing. “Still nice. Feels good when you’re in me, even when I’m not going to get off from it.”

Harry’s chest burns with emotion, feelings so deep he can’t even really begin to describe them. He kisses the words, “I love you,” into Louis’ mouth, keeping them hushed and almost still, meant for the two of them and the two of them only.

He knows Louis is tired, knows that Louis wants to sleep, probably even could fall asleep despite Harry’s cock still in his arse, but he responds anyway, whispering the words back to Harry quietly, easily, over and over again in between kisses as if he wants to sear the words into Harry’s brain.

“Sleep, my love,” Harry murmurs, quiet, mostly indistinct. Louis’ eyes are slipping closed, warmth and serenity practically seeping out of his pores, fingers slipping slowly off Harry’s neck. A surge of satisfaction thunders through Harry’s veins, the alpha in him appeased by the way his omega is starting to fall asleep. It means Harry’s fucked him well enough for long enough he can’t stay awake any more, pleased him so well. Made him feel so good.

It doesn’t take much longer for Harry’s knot to subside enough to pull out, but Louis has fallen asleep anyway. Harry’s careful as he eases himself out, both to go slowly and to make sure he doesn’t jostle Louis. He’s just as careful as he rearranges them into a better sleeping position, curling up around Louis’ back and nosing into his hair. It tickles a little, itches, smells so good none of that matters. Wraps his arms around Louis’ belly and doesn’t let go.

Sleeps.

 

“I think I should get one,” Louis says, fingers drifting slowly over Harry’s shoulder, exploring and curious.

Harry makes a soft noise, eyes refusing to open. He feels mostly asleep, tired. Fucked out. He has no idea how Louis is still so awake.

He’s awake enough to pull Louis even closer, naked skin touching naked skin. The room smells like sex, their combined scents twined together. It smells good, inviting.

Maybe not to anyone but the two of them, but that’s just incentive for the crew to stay far away for a few more hours, until the scent fades into something less obvious.

“Get what?” Harry asks, fumbling a hand up to cover Louis’. Not stilling it, just over his fingers as Louis continues his exploration, rubbing gently over his skin.

“A tattoo,” Louis answers, bending his head to press his mouth against the spot he’s touching.

Oh. Harry’s heart tattoo.

“What would you get?”

He feels Louis’ shrug against his side. “Don’t know,” he murmurs, still kissing at Harry’s skin. It feels warm and tingly, nice. If he keeps it up Harry’s cock will begin to respond, regardless of how tired he is. “Something with meaning.”

If it’s a jab, it’s a good natured one. Not all of Harry’s tattoos have meaning, some of them done while drunk, some of them just intriguing designs Harry didn’t want to forget. A lot of them do, though. Have meaning, that is.

Ones to remind him of his family, no matter how much time passes, ones to remind him of the sea when he’s been away for far too long. Some to remind him of the ship, of the crew, of Liam and Niall and Zayn. Memories etched into his skin so he’ll be able to look back on them with clarity for years to come.

“Something for me?” Harry asks, picturing it. Something to link them together for the rest of their lives.

Louis’ lips skim over his shoulder once more before the heat of them vanish, replaced by his head as he lies down properly. “No,” he says, considering. His fingers are warm as he finds Harry’s hand, laces them together. “Something for me. To remind me.”

The urge to bury his nose in Louis’ hair, to inhale the scent of him, is overwhelming even with how tired Harry is. He does it, drowsiness getting worse. It’s muggy in here, hot, adding to the need for sleep.

He asks anyway, wants to know for sure. “Remind you of what?”

“That this is my home now, but no matter how far away from England I am my past will always guide me, shape me,” Louis says.

It’s almost poetic. Beautiful in its complexity. “Something to remind you for the rest of your life,” Harry agrees, squeezing Louis’ hand. “We’ll go the next time we dock.”

 

The tattoo parlour they find is small but clean, only one employee visible. Louis makes Harry wait in an uncomfortable chair while he discusses his design with the artist, and no matter how hard Harry tries he can’t quite make out the individual words of their murmured conversation.

“Okay, it’ll just take a few minutes to draw up a sketch and then we can get started,” the artist says. Louis drifts back over to take a seat beside Harry, crossing a leg over his knee demurely.

As if Harry’s going to believe he’s even the slightest bit demure after the way he acted this morning.

“Can I know what it is yet?” Harry asks, leaning over to their shoulders are brushing together.

“No,” Louis responds immediately. “S’none of your business, is it? It’s my body, I’ll get what I want on it.”

Now he’s just being difficult on purpose. Harry pouts, snaking his hand into Louis’ lap and tangling their fingers together. “Not even a tiny little hint?” he wheedles.

“No,” Louis says stubbornly. “It’s a surprise, Harry, don’t you know what a surprise is?”

Harry can think of a few ways to coax Louis into telling him. Unfortunately, none of them are really appropriate for a public place.

“I know what a surprise is,” he answers anyway, just because if he allows Louis to have the last word he’ll think he’s won and that never bodes well.

“Do you?” Louis asks, arching his eyebrows. “You sure about that?”

Before Harry can think of an answer to that which will stupefy Louis but also still get him laid tonight, the tattoo artist is calling them over. It only takes a couple of minutes to get set up, and then the actual tattooing starts.

Louis makes him promise not to look while the tattoo is inked onto his skin, and while he doesn’t actually threaten to withhold sex if Harry looks he hears it anyway.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room is the low buzz of the ink gun scratching along Louis’ skin. His face is turned away from it, towards Harry, their hands tangled together. It’s so tempting to sneak a peek at the lines of ink being pressed into his forearm, so close to Harry’s eyes.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks, keeping his voice quiet. 

Louis blinks slowly, licks his bottom lip consideringly. “Yeah, a little. S’not too bad.”

“Worse than the first time you accidentally stabbed yourself trying to learn how to use Zayn’s knife?” Harry asks, interested. If he can’t see what the tattoo is he’s going to appease himself by listening to Louis talk about his pain threshold.

“No,” Louis says, curling his fingers around Harry’s so they’re holding hands properly, palm a bit damp against Harry’s. “But more than the first time you fucked me.”

It’s obscenely improper, especially with the way Louis waggles his eyebrows to go along with the statement. The artist is polite enough to pretend that he hasn’t heard it, going about his work, but Harry definitely has. “How much did that hurt?”

“Mm, that only hurt in the best kind of way,” Louis assures him, lying back against the chair and looking a fascinating mix between the royalty he was born and the pirate he’s become. Harry’s entire body hurts a little with how much he loves him.

Maybe one specific part of him hurts a little more than others. And it’s not his heart.

“Too big for you?” Harry asks, propping his elbow up on the arm rest of the chair so he can lean over Louis better, not obscuring the artist’s light but ensuring that Louis is more focused on him than the man holding his arm still.

There’s no way anything is going to happen between the two of them but Harry’s inner alpha still wants him to make sure it physically can’t happen. Harry’s more or less come to terms with it.

Louis snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, squeezing Harry’s fingers. Harry smiles down at him, unable to stop himself, and is rewarded with Louis’ answering smile.

And the buzz of the tattoo gun being shut off.

“Alright, you’re all set,” the tattoo artist says cheerfully, pushing his own chair away from Louis’ and standing up. Resolutely, Harry still doesn’t try to sneak a peek.

“Can I look now?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Imagine what you would be like if I said no,” he mutters. “Impossible.” He’s turning his arm over though, bringing it up into Harry’s line of vision and Harry.

Harry’s heart may skip a beat or two.

“Lou,” he breathes, fingers hovering over the fresh lines of ink, wishing he could touch. Later, once the tattoo has healed and all the skin has finished peeling Harry probably won’t be able to convince himself to stop touching. For now, though, he has to make due with just looking.

“Harry,” Louis returns pleasantly enough. Harry blinks away the sudden wetness in his eyes, dragging his thumb across the skin underneath the ink, touching wherever he can. Wherever he won’t mess anything up.

“So when you said that it wasn’t for me you were lying?” Harry asks. “At least a little?”

Louis shakes his head. “It isn’t for you,” he denies. “It’s a compass, Harold, there’s nothing that says _life at sea_ more than a compass except a ship.”

It’s a compass alright, but it’s a compass in the same style as the ship sitting on Harry’s bicep. There’s no denying the two are linked, connected. Even if it’s not entirely for Harry, or even _mostly_ for Harry it’s at least a little bit for him. Harry knows that.

“You, my liege,” Harry murmurs, pulling Louis’ hand up and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “are just full of surprises.”

The tattoo shop ends up being another they get kicked out of. This time it’s for public indecency.

 

 

Outside the door to Harry’s cabin, the sound of fighting clangs loud and obvious. Harry’s eyes are wet with tears, lump lodged in his throat. There’s nothing he can do now, no moves left to make. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry breathes, brushing Louis’ hair back off his face so they can kiss again, pouring every feeling he’s ever had into it, every emotion surging through him. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

His knot is going down, almost soft enough to be able to pull out. Louis is mostly quiet and flushed underneath him, clutching Harry’s biceps tightly, whimpering every so often, barely even paying attention, still lost in the sensations, but Harry has to tell him one more time, just once more, just so he’ll always know. He can’t ever forget.

“I love you,” Harry says softly, whispering it in Louis’ ear. It’s just for him, not the prying ears outside, waiting to slice a blade across Harry’s neck and return Louis to his homeland.

“Love you,” Louis slurs back, trying to get his arms up around Harry’s neck. It doesn’t feel right that this will be the last time Harry hears him say it, the last time the scent of him thrums through Harry’s veins. It’s not right.

Their time together was nowhere near long enough. An eternity wouldn’t have been long enough, and Harry will go to his grave cherishing this moment, this last moment together.

His cheeks are wet as he pulls out, slowly, carefully. Louis’ fingers drift over them sweetly, tenderly. If Harry is to die today he’ll die having been loved by this beautiful, sweet, vicious omega, so thoroughly there’s no doubt in his mind that it’s the best he could ever have been loved.

Harry dresses them both with slightly numb fingers, lingering on Louis’ skin, making sure he’s covered. Then, when he can stall no longer, he sweeps his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone and braces himself to say the most painful words he’ll ever say.

“Listen to me,” he says, still soft. Louis blinks up at him, eyes deep blue and wide, lips slightly parted. “It’s time for you to go home, my love. Back to your family, alright? You have to go with the Navy.”

“No,” Louis says, making a grab for Harry’s shoulder. “No.” He misses, limbs still shaky from Harry’s cock, pretty little omega all fucked out.

Harry already misses him, chest already aching so deep it’s almost numb. He takes Louis’ hand and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “You have to,” he says, unable to meet Louis’ eyes. “Your father will take care of you. Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re going to be fine, baby.”

“But I love you,” Louis says.

“I know,” is all Harry can say, and guides him through the door, right into the arms of a waiting soldier.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness from a gun to the back of the head is Louis walking away, right off of Harry’s ship.

He doesn’t look back.

 

It’s almost impossible to tell how much time passes, chained up in one of the dungeons of the British Royal Navy’s fleet, dark and musky. He’s given a scant amount of food and water, and he’s mostly not expecting to ever see land ever again. He’s going to die here, chained up in this place.

All he thinks about, the _only thing_ he thinks about is that Louis is probably somewhere above him, safe and sound, probably being held just as captive as Harry, albeit in better accommodations.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, trying to communicate it with his thoughts, _I love you so much_.

 

The only person he sees aside from the serving boy who brings the morsels of food and water is the Commander of the ship, the head officer of the fleet.

“You will be executed once we reach England,” he informs Harry calmly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Even if you weren’t a pirate, you would be executed for buggering the King’s omega son.”

Harry doesn’t react. It’s not untrue, any of it, and Harry doesn’t regret it. Will never regret it.

“He has free run of the ship,” the Commander says, changing tactics, clearly trying to get a reaction. “Wherever he wants to go, he can. We’re not stopping him from coming to see you.”

It hurts, those words. Harry doesn’t believe them, but they still hurt. It doesn’t matter, though. Even if it’s true it doesn’t matter. Louis will save his own skin and that’s all Harry wants.

Louis will be safe, and that’s all that matters. That’s all that has ever mattered.

 

He’s knocked out again when the ship comes to a stop, swaying gently in the water. It’s bright when he comes to, sun shining in his eyes, making everything blurry. His hands are tied behind his back and he’s on his knees, rope around his neck keeping him there. There’s noise coming from every direction, and the first thing he sees once his eyes come into focus are the gallows.

He’ll be hung, then.

He keeps his breathing steady and even. He’s not afraid of death - hasn’t been for a long time - but there’s things he regrets, things he wishes he had done, things he wishes he hadn’t done.

Louis isn’t one of them. Louis isn’t a regret.

The next thing he sees is the King, flanked by his personal guards, hands touching the hilts of their swords as if Harry is going to be stupid enough to try something.

“Captain Harry Styles,” the King says. “Commander of _The Wandering Sparrow_ , pirate vessel. You’ve stolen more than your fair share of England’s goods over the years.”

Harry stays silent. The King continues, unperturbed, “None as valuable as England’s firstborn prince, stolen from us over a year ago. It seems you had no intention of doing the honourable thing and returning him to his homeland, to the place he belongs.”

The place Louis belongs is at Harry’s side, trying to order his crew around and undermine Harry’s every decision. There will be no more of that, though, not anymore. That’s okay. It has to be okay. Because no matter what _Louis will be safe_. Louis will be safe.

“What say you to these accusations?” King Tomlinson booms, drawing a chorus of gleeful cries from the crowds.

Harry raises his head and sets his shoulders. Answers, “Guilty.”

The King doesn’t even blink. “And to the accusations of taking my son’s purity?”

This must be where Louis gets his flair for the dramatic. There’s no way Harry could deny that claim, not when there’s at least five Navy men who can attest to it being true.

“Guilty,” Harry repeats.

The rope snaps tight against his neck, cutting off his air for a handful of long, terrifying seconds. Everything seems much brighter when he can breathe again, the smell of salt hanging thickly in the air, blown over from the sea. If Harry’s lucky they’ll toss his lifeless body back into the water where he’s always been most at peace.

“For these crimes and more, the sentence would be execution,” the King declares. “A pirate hung in the gallows for others to see and learn a lesson from.”

It’s the sentence Harry has been expecting. For now, he keeps breathing and tells himself that Louis is safe. 

It’s all that matters.

He would kill to see Louis one last time before he goes, but all he has to do is close his eyes and he can see Louis’ face, the jut of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the blue of his eyes. The soft fringe of his hair, the scrape of his stubble when he lets it grow out. The taste of his mouth, pliant and sweet underneath Harry’s.

Like strawberries and caramel. He’s always tasted like strawberries.

He was Harry’s only for a moment in time, and the guilt of leaving him weighs heavily on Harry’s soul, and there’s nothing to be done for it but trust that he’ll be well cared for. Believe that he’ll find someone to look after him, someone who will make him happy, because despite the jealousy that rears in Harry’s chest at the thought it has to come true. Louis has to be okay.

“One more question, first,” King Tomlinson says. Harry barely hears him over the rush of thoughts in his head, memories of all the times he’s shared with Louis, and thinks that his final thought will be that he doesn’t regret a moment of it.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes,” Harry responds instantly, unthinkingly. It feels like the word has been ripped out of his chest.

“And you would die for him?”

“Yes,” Harry repeats. It’s not an affirmation he should be making, even now, but there’s no reason left not to. Let this King know that Captain Harry Styles may be a pirate but he’s gone to his grave having loved his child with everything he has in him.

“Except no one asked you to,” a voice says, biting and bitter but sweet, familiar. Harry’s eyes fly open, straining towards it, mouth opening to find the words to get him out of here, so Louis won’t have to witness this. So he won’t have to watch as Harry’s life drains out of his body.

The rope yanks again, choking any response Harry could make right out of him. Louis strides up to him and yanks Harry’s head back, up towards the sky with one fist buried in his hair. Sun glints over everything, golden and beautiful, but especially over Louis.

“You would leave me so easily,” Louis says, all but snarling the words, meeting Harry’s gaze furiously. “Just send me back to my father to be corralled as if I’m some sort of child, unable to make my own decisions, undeserving of the opportunity to choose for myself?”

 _No_ , Harry tries to say. The word doesn’t come out, rope still too tight around his throat.

“I should let you be executed,” Louis continues, yanking Harry’s head even farther. “If you’re so willing to give up on me I should give up on you.”

He lets go all at once, leaving Harry gasping for air. “I’m taking your ship.”

Harry watches, chest still heaving, as Louis strides away, out of sight.

“If I had my way, you would be dead right now,” King Tomlinson says. “Fortunately for you, my son was very convincing in explaining that he would be forced to take his own life if that were to happen.”

Harry breathes heavily. “He wouldn’t have,” he says numbly, still searching for any sign of Louis. Doesn’t find any.

“Yes, well, that’s not a chance that you take with one of your children,” the King responds. “He seems to love you a great deal.”

There’s probably no answer to that the King wants to hear. Harry remains quiet.

“He’s saved your life,” the King continues. “Now make sure that if it’s ever necessary you save his.”

The shackles are removed from Harry’s wrists roughly. Harry looks up, shocked, and can’t manage to do anything other than stare.

“Don’t let him die, Captain Styles,” the King says. “Else I really will come after you with the entire force of the British Navy behind me.”

“You won’t need to,” Harry says, still a little numb. This can’t actually be happening. “If he dies that must mean I’m already dead.”

The King snorts a little. It’s a very unkinglike sound. “To be young and in love,” he mutters. “Well, you better go after him, then. If I know my son he has every intention of taking your ship and leaving you here to rot, he was so angry with you.”

That’s exactly what Louis would do. Harry struggles to his feet, and then he - 

He runs. He runs and he doesn’t look over his shoulder to see if anyone’s following him, cutting through people and objects, the scent of the sea in his every pore, in his blood, and follows the call of it all the way to the docks.

His ship is there. His ship’s there, and she’s grand and majestic like she always is, and Harry has no idea _how_ she’s here, but more importantly, Louis is there, walking briskly towards _The Sparrow_ , back tense and unforgiving.

He tackles Louis right off the docks and into the water, arms locked around his waist to keep him from getting away. The water is a cold shock to his system, rushing over their heads for a few brief, glorious seconds before they break the surface again, still tangled together.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Louis spits, struggling, trying to break free of Harry’s grip, “Scourge of the seven seas, no better than a common thief, you - ”

Harry kisses him quiet. They nearly drown in the process, but he opens up for it with barely any coaxing, accepts Harry’s tongue in his mouth and clutches onto his shoulders hard enough Harry will have welts within minutes.

“May the gods have mercy upon my soul,” Harry murmurs, pushing Louis’ wet hair out of his face, “for the love I have for you knows no bounds.”

Louis digs his fingers in harder. Harry doesn’t wince, relishes in the sting. “You’d be asking them for mercy at a time like this?” he asks softly, silkily. “When you should be on your knees begging for mine?”

There’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that Louis will spend the rest of his life making Harry beg for his mercy. It’s a strangely reassuring thought.

The water masks the scent of Louis’ slick, salt and mist hanging in the air all around them, but it doesn’t matter. Harry doesn’t have to smell it to know he’s wet, to know that he wants to be taken. That he wants Harry to take him.

Harry reaches out to grab onto the edge of the dock with one hand, making it easier for them to stay afloat, keeping the other wrapped around Louis’ wrist. “My liege,” he says, touching the corners of their mouths together, “I would do anything for your forgiveness.”

It’s not a lie. They haven’t come this far, traveled this wide, to get caught up in the past, in the how and why of what’s happened. Right now what matters is that they’re together and that they’re going to get to stay together without looking over their shoulders.

“Good,” Louis says, satisfied, and begins to add something else.

A wave crashes over their heads before he can get it out. Harry grips him tighter, clutches onto the wood in his hand, and doesn’t let them get separated by the ferocity of the ocean. Not now, not ever.

He has to take one more kiss before he can start pushing Louis out of the water, clothes dragging and sticking to their bodies as they haul themselves back up onto the dock. _The Sparrow_ is still in sight, only a few yards away, and Harry can see some of the crew milling around even with the distance.

Both his feet are barely touching the wood of the dock when Louis takes off, darting in between people, small and fast, and he’s halfway to the ship before Harry’s even finished pulling himself out of the water.

There’s a war waging in Harry’s veins, clashing urges of wanting to give chase until Louis is breathless and pinned down underneath Harry for everyone to see and the desire to laugh, tip his head up towards the sky and marvel at his good fortune.

The urge to chase wins. It’s no surprise. Chase is an urge that runs in Harry’s veins, and chasing this omega - _his omega_ \- will never be something Harry doesn’t do. To the ends of the Earth and back again, if that’s what Louis wanted.

And that is what Louis wants, at least right now, so Harry chases after him, narrowly avoiding knocking into several people along the way. He’s not nearly as fast as Louis is, a fact he blames on the way his clothing drags against his skin, on the hormones surging through him, making him off balance and shaky.

Danny and Julian laugh as Harry goes by, but it’s good natured. Harry flips them off absently, focused on his mission, on catching up to Louis and making the pain of the past few days go away.

The thought spurs him on, Louis’ scent drifting through the air, taunting him, teasing him. Calling him, demanding that Harry fulfill his duty as Louis’ alpha, demanding that Harry do everything in his power to please him, keep him happy.

Harry’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to do exactly that, and it doesn’t even matter how long it is. As long as they’re together.

He bursts onto the ship, skidding along the freshly waxed deck, the water dripping off him not helping. The door to his quarters is ajar, crew all but ghosts, more than likely hiding below deck so they won’t get an earful of what’s about to happen. Harry bellows out, “Set sail for deep waters,” not bothering to temper his voice. The risk that the King will change his mind and send the Navy after them is low but it’s not a risk Harry is willing to take.

Not when everything he wants is waiting for him in his quarters, presumably naked and anxious for Harry to knot him.

He stumbles as he enters the room, trying to kick his boots off and strip his shirt over his head at the same time. Pain shoots through his shoulder as he careens off the wall, letting the fabric drop through his fingers, uncaring of where it lands.

As expected, Louis is lounging in their mess of blankets completely naked, one knee pulled up to his chest, bent in a way that puts all the right parts of him on display.

Not that there’s any wrong parts of him. Harry loves every part of Louis equally.

Well. Maybe he loves Louis’ arse a little bit more than other parts, but that’s only to be expected, right? Right.

“Christ, but I do love you,” Harry says, kicking the door closed behind him and shucking his trousers down. They have to be all but peeled off his thighs, wet and cold, and his skin is clammy once he’s fully naked but he barely even notices.

All he can see is Louis, the brilliance of his smile, the way he opens himself up to Harry’s gaze. There’s no more perfect omega in the entire world and Harry was the alpha lucky enough to be pestered into bedding him.

“I know,” Louis says, beckoning him with an impatient gesture. “But you’ll have to _earn_ my forgiveness.”

Harry’s done nothing to need to earn his forgiveness and they both know it. Staying was always Louis’ decision, and he was the one who initiated their relationship and then pushed it along at every stage, and the British Navy catching up to them would have happened eventually.

“Aye,” Harry says, dropping down to his knees at Louis’ side, somehow having crossed the room without even registering it. “I have earned you.”

“You are _beneath_ me,” Louis tells him haughtily, winding his arms around Harry’s neck. “I will always be worth more than you.”

Harry will break him if it’s the last thing he does. “You’re worth everything to me,” he says openly, honestly, trailing his fingers across Louis’ ribs gently. His skin is warm and smooth underneath the tips of Harry’s fingers, welcoming.

“What would you do to prove it?” Louis asks, arching up into the touch as he tries to pull Harry closer, down onto the bed with him properly. “How much I’m worth to you.”

Harry resists the lure of Louis’ scent, of his body, naked and wanting. Doesn’t bend to his will, no matter what his libido is telling him. “Have I not done enough?” he asks, dragging his fingers up the side of Louis’ chest, over his shoulder. “Do I need to do more to prove that I would go to the ends of the world for you?”

There’s a flush sitting high on Louis’ cheekbones, distracting in its devastating beauty. For a minute, Harry wonders how he’ll deal with that for the next sixty years, Louis’ ability to stun him into silence without even trying.

He has the rest of his life to figure it out. The thought is like a warm, comforting blanket resting upon his soul.

“No,” Louis says softly, bringing one of his own hands up to grip Harry’s wrist, touch joining them together in yet another place. “Just tell me this,” he asks, pink tongue darting out to wet his lower lip in a way Harry can’t help but watch, “will you take care of me for the rest of our lives?”

Harry bends down to kiss him again, not lingering like he wants to. The part of him that wants to rush into the sex is easily quieted by the part that’s repeating _the rest of our lives_ , even though it’s a thought Harry had himself only a minute ago.

“We both know that you don’t need me to take care of you.”

It’s the right thing to say but it’s also _true_. Louis has never needed anyone to take care of him, not even when they’d rescued him from _The Tide_. He’s fully capable of providing for himself, sneaky and alluring, and Harry can’t fault him for that. Even when it makes the alpha in him bristle.

“I don’t,” Louis agrees, succeeding in pulling Harry down. “But I like that you want to.”

“And?” Harry prompts, hovering over Louis and refusing to set himself all the way down.

“And I love you,” Louis says, moving underneath him, slippery skin as he tries to get what he wants. “Even though I hate that you tried to sacrifice yourself for me.”

It wasn’t sacrificing himself, and that’s a point Harry’s going to argue. Later. Once they finish having sex.

It might be a while before they have that argument.

“You make me happy,” Harry whispers, touching the corner of Louis’ mouth with his fingers and then with his mouth, kissing the smile right off of Louis’ face. Now that the niceties are out of the touch they can get down to the real business.

The real business being sex. God, it’s been so long since they’ve had sex. Way too long.

He has to taste the soft heat of Louis’ mouth again, strawberries and wine. It’s addictive. Harry will never be able to get enough of it.

Won’t have to ever get enough of it, not if he has his way.

“We’re going to scandalize our crew,” Louis says, practically slurring into Harry’s mouth. His thighs come up to grip Harry’s sides the second Harry lets him, clutching him in between his legs and refusing to let go.

 _Our crew_. Louis has been trying to get himself into a position of authority for months now, undermining Harry’s decisions and winning his crew over one by one, and the end result is that Harry wants it to be _their_ crew. Both of them. In it together. Because they are in it together.

It’s satisfying to know that it already _is_ their crew.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Harry says, trying not to breathe too deeply. Like this, completely naked and pressed up close, the smell of the sea can’t overpower the scent of Louis, of his slick, of the readiness of his body. Of the way his desire for Harry matches Harry’s desire for him.

“Nor the last,” Louis replies, arching up and sending his cock skidding across Harry’s abdomen. Asking for it. To be fucked.

Who is Harry not to oblige Prince Louis Tomlinson of Yorkshire.

He doesn’t have to dampen his fingers, just slips one hand underneath Louis’ bum and between his cheeks, nearly getting soaked from how wet he is. “No,” Harry agrees. “Not the last.”

“You’re mine,” Louis sighs, entirely too pleased, squirming as Harry presses a single finger into the tight wet grip of his hole.

Harry bends his head to whisper into Louis’ mouth, “And you’re mine,” before kissing him properly, crooking his finger at the same time. Slick seeps down his finger, onto his palm, making his mouth water. He’ll probably never get over the way Louis smells when he’s turned on.

Everything is sharp and blurry at the same time. Harry slides a second finger in beside the first, wasting no time crooking them, trying to open Louis up quickly, efficiently. It’s hard when Louis is kissing him like this, sharp and demanding, trying to push things along. Harry’s cock aches, knot threatening to pop already, and that can’t happen, not before he’s buried inside of Louis. Two fingers will have to do, will have to be enough, so Harry draws them out and replaces them with his cock instead.

They both hiss out equally desperate sounds as Harry slides inside of Louis for what feels like the first time all over again, kiss turning even rougher in the process. “Alpha,” Louis slurs, demanding and eager, word barely even sounding like English, and what he’s not saying hangs in the air between them, thick.

 _Knot me_.

“My love,” Harry hisses back, thrusting once, twice, before shoving his hips as deep as he can get and staying there, knot swelling up fast and large. 

Hard against his stomach, Louis comes, pulling out a few strands of Harry’s hair as he does. Clenches down around Harry’s knot, and that’s all it takes for Harry to start coming himself, eyes flying shut from how good it feels.

“Love,” Louis is saying, repeating the word indistinctly. His head is lolling back against the floor, exposing the bare, smooth line of his throat, and it’s like Harry can see it even with his eyes closed. Knows that he needs to bite, close his teeth down around that spot where he’s marked Louis as his, the place that binds them together even more securely than Harry’s knot.

Does.

By the time Harry has finished coming, body empty and wrung out, they’re both a mess. Sweaty and slick with Louis’ come, smell of sex thick in the air. It’s everything Harry has ever wanted right here, Louis beneath him and his ship rocking them together, his crew waiting for their orders.

“My love,” Harry murmurs again, finally able to kiss Louis gently, softly. Louis returns it, fingers laced around the back of Harry’s neck as though he’s unwilling to let him go. “Thank you.”

“You’re not forgiven,” Louis says, but there’s no malice in the words. “You will be groveling for the next week at least.”

Harry will grovel as long as Louis wants him to and then a few more days after that. They will probably always disagree about whether Harry did the right thing or not, and it will be a point of contention in their relationship for the rest of their lives, but Harry thinks they’ll be able to handle it. 

“I love you,” Louis adds, slipping his fingers into Harry’s hair and scratching at his scalp. “So much, Harry.”

“I love you too, my liege,” Harry whispers back, angling his mouth so they can kiss again. They will fight about whether Harry did the right thing and a thousand other things, but at the end of the day none of it will matter because they love each other and Louis is okay.

They’re both okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My tumblr](http://crazyupsetter.tumblr.com/)


	3. Epilogue

“I feel like this is going to end terribly,” Harry says, resisting the urge to fidget with his clothing. He’s uncomfortably hot, pinned into stiff, unforgiving material that costs way more than it should.

Louis raises an eyebrow, shrugging into a jacket quickly, easily. Much easier than Harry had, that’s for sure. “Why? Are you planning to challenge him for the throne?”

“Christ, no,” Harry says immediately, helping Louis with the jacket even though he’s probably only making it take longer. Any excuse to smooth his hands over Louis’ shoulders is one he’s going to take.

“So just mind your manners and remember the things I told you,” Louis says impatiently, ducking away from Harry’s hands to examine his hair in the mirror, reaching up to fix a stray strand.

“Aye, because that will change the fact that your father wants to kill me,” Harry mutters sourly, flexing his toes in the shoes he’s wearing. Like everything else that’s currently on his body, they’re tight and pinch at his skin. Honestly, he has no idea how Louis used to dress like this on a daily basis.

Aesthetically, it’s a completely different story. For Louis, at least. The beauty of the clothes will never make up for the discomfort for Harry, but Louis looks devastating. It’s not the first time Louis has been dressed like the royalty he is - he cons Harry into buying him pretty things he doesn’t actually need all the time - but for the most part he dresses like the rest of Harry’s crew, for comfort over fashion.

He looks at ease in the clothing, is what it is. He looks like he belongs in it.

Possibly Harry makes up his mind to buy him some fancier clothing. Only to be worn for Harry’s eyes, though. There’s no way people would be able to take their eyes off Louis if he was dressed like this all of the time. They’ve already run into that particular problem too many times for Harry’s liking.

“You did bed me after technically kidnapping me,” Louis points out, hair staying in place. He doesn’t look up to meet Harry’s gaze in the mirror.

That’s probably a good thing. Harry’s eyes are currently fixed on Louis’ arse - the cut of his trousers is divine, and that’s not a word Harry uses lightly.

“We never kidnapped you,” Harry says, drifting across the room to run his fingers over the back of Louis’ neck lightly.

“Yes, you did,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “And then you kept me until my father’s army caught up to you. There’s really no way to spin that in a way that doesn’t make him want to kill you at least a little.”

Harry could make an argument against pretty much all of that. Instead, he presses his knuckles against the back of Louis’ neck, watching the way his eyes flutter half closed in the mirror, and says, “And you wonder why I’m worried?”

There’s a bit of a self-satisfied smirk on Louis’ face as he leans back against Harry’s chest. “Maybe don’t tell him that you also wed me without his permission, then.”

As if. Harry plans on _never_ having that conversation with Louis’ father. Or his mother. Or any of his family, just in case it gets back to either of his parents. That would be an incredibly stupid move. No matter what the King has said, Harry’s pretty sure that would be something he _does_ get his head removed for.

“I fully intend to avoid that topic for as long as humanly possible,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ neck again, just because he can. Thoughts of their wedding - if it can even be called a wedding - flash through his mind. Tipsy and overheated, it had been less of a proper wedding and more of a declaration of eternal love, but they have a certificate hidden away in the back of Harry’s desk on the ship. It’s a legal, binding union.

In Argentina, at the very least.

“Good decision,” Louis says, leaning on him for another minute before he pulls away. “Are you ready?”

“For death? No. For dinner? I suppose.”

Louis rolls his eyes and smacks Harry on the arm before starting for the door, leading the way. Harry has to take a deep breath before he can follow, but he thinks that’s understandable.

After all, he is a pirate, not a nobleman. Sitting down to dine with the King of England and the royal family isn’t exactly one of his pastimes.

 

The dining hall is grand, ceiling looming above their heads with ornate artwork. The table is long and set with expensive cutlery and dishes, food steaming atop of them. Harry’s fingers only itch with the tiniest of urges to steal something expensive, too distracted by the King and Queen entering the room.

He resists the urge to fidget as he stands, uncomfortable and itchy. No one’s even looking at him, though, not with the way Louis all but flings himself into his mother’s arms, hugging her tight. The embrace goes on for quite a while, soft murmured sound of them talking to each other floating through the air. Louis’ father joins in after a minute, wrapping his arms around both of them. It’s an intimate moment, a family moment, one that Harry feels almost guilty about witnessing.

The embrace ends eventually, as it was bound to. Harry stands still, just as uncomfortable as he was when he entered the room, and smiles the best he can as the Queen sets her sights on him. She walks over to him, nearly gliding, and Harry bends his head, expecting her to offer her hand, but she doesn’t.

She hugs him instead.

It’s a fierce, tight hug, almost crushing, and for a second all Harry can think is _Louis must have gotten his strength from his mum_.

“Thank you for taking care of my boy,” she says into his ear, quiet enough that it’s clearly not meant for Louis to overhear.

Harry’s only telling the truth as he responds, “He takes care of himself. But I love him and I would do anything for him if he needed it.”

It must be the right answer. Louis’ mum is all but beaming at him as she pulls back, visibly happy. “I’m very glad to finally meet you, Captain Styles.”

“You don’t have to call him that, mum,” Louis says, pulling out one of the chairs with a terrible screeching noise and dropping into it without waiting for anyone to move. Harry’s unbearably fond of him.

He waits until the King and Queen have seated themselves before following suit, sitting neatly in the chair next to Louis, spaced far enough apart that there’s no risk of their elbows banging together as they eat. It’s very different from the kind of dining Harry is used to.

“It’s proper etiquette, Louis,” the Queen sighs, reaching for her water glass.

Louis scoffs, mouthing _proper etiquette_ at his place setting. It looks like an old, well hashed argument and Harry couldn’t love him more. As much as he pretends that he only likes fancy things he’s perfectly content with only the basics, and these two people instilled that in him.

“So, Captain Styles, when exactly do you intend to marry my son?” the King asks suddenly, sending the room into complete and utter stillness.

Harry’s good at thinking under pressure - it’s part of the reason he makes a good Captain and why his crew hasn’t voted him out. He’s completely floundering right now, at a loss. “I - ” he says helplessly.

“Jesus, dad,” Louis says, lounging in his seat comfortably. Harry has no idea how he can be so comfortable at a time like this, when Harry is about to be murdered for sure. “Way to put him on the spot.”

There’s a smirk tugging at the corners of Louis’ mouth, and just like that Harry realizes.

He’s fucking _enjoying this_ , the bastard.

Well. If he wants to play this particular game, Harry can play.

Harry slips out of his seat, landing on one knee beside Louis’ chair. He takes Louis’ left hand in his own and says, “Well, I was going to wait a bit longer, but there’s no time like the present, right?”

Louis inhales sharply, mouthing _you fucking prick_. It’s probably at an angle his parents don’t see it. Harry tamps down his own smile and continues, “Louis William Tomlinson, you’re the light of my life. I’m always the happiest whenever I’m with you, and it’s probably not possibly for me to love you more. Will you do the honour of marrying me?”

He has to fumble to get the ring out of his jacket pocket, but he manages, holding it up just enough that everyone will be able to see it.

There’s the soft, quiet sound of Louis’ mum gasping and his father breathing, but other than that it’s quiet for a split second before Louis is sliding off his own chair and grabbing Harry’s head to kiss him, much too rough for a just-got-engaged kiss.

“Bastard,” Louis hisses, biting at Harry’s bottom lip before he pulls away, affecting watery eyes and a trembly mouth. Christ, he’s so good at faking it. “Yes,” he says, loud and clear, and allows Harry to slip the ring onto his finger.

Harry hauls him back up to his feet, hugging him close, and suddenly there’s commotion in the room, Louis’ hoard of siblings bursting in and his parents telling them what’s happened, joy in all of their voices, and Harry thinks _maybe I could get used to this_.

Not all the time, of course. But to return to this every so often, to the clamor and exhaustion of a close knit family. Occasionally.

 

The celebrations go well into the night. By the end of it, Harry’s mouth feels bruised and slightly swollen from all the times people have demanded he and Louis kiss. The word spreads like wildfire, servants coming out of their quarters to magic up a feast, royalty and friends and family all dropping in with their congratulations.

When it’s over, the Queen sends them off to separate rooms. One of the maids leads Harry to his through a series of twisting and turning corridors, too many for his alcohol fuzzy brain to keep up with, much less remember so he can sneak out of his room and find Louis’.

It’s funny, actually. The very first time Harry was introduced to their lives he was literally knotted inside of their son and now they won’t even let them sleep in the same room. It’s a paradox or something, must be. Harry’s too tired to think of the right word.

The room is probably decorated very nicely. All Harry really sees of it is the ceiling, vaulted and pristine, and the bed, made up with fancy linens and more pillows than any one person could possibly need. It’s soft underneath his back, much softer than the bed on the ship. Harry can kind of understand why Louis insisted they add some extra padding to it now - it must be hard to go from this kind of plushness to next to nothing.

He’s been lying in bed contemplating the softness of the mattress for a while when the door creaks open. It’s a slow, leisurely creak as if the door has all the time in the world to open, and Harry would be worried that it’s one of the King’s Guards being sent to slit his throat in his sleep for daring to deflower his omega son, except he can smell said omega son.

Strawberries, like always. Intoxicating.

“You’re going to get caught if you don’t hurry up,” Harry says, still staring up at the ceiling. Maybe they can smuggle this mattress out of the castle and onto the ship. It would be an excursion worth undertaking, he thinks.

“Please, I know my way around this castle,” Louis scoffs, shutting the door with a quiet snick. “Guards aren’t due to pass for another hour.”

“Are they going to hear us if we have sex in here?” Harry wonders, holding an arm up just in time for Louis to slip into the bed next to him.

Maybe they should take the rug as well. He hadn’t even heard Louis crossing the room.

“No,” Louis says, pinching Harry’s side. “You can scream as loud as you want and no one will hear you, _fiancee_.”

“That’s good to know, _husband_ ,” Harry says, pinching him back. Louis slaps at him, ring banging against Harry’s palm, so of course Harry has to wrestle him into submission, which ends the same way it always does.

With Louis caught on his knot.

 

Later, after they’ve finished having sex and Louis is sitting astride Harry’s hips, still flushed and sweaty, he says, “I can’t believe you fake proposed to me better than you real proposed to me, you arsehole.”

“What are you talking about, I proposed so amazingly,” Harry protests.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because saying _let’s go get hitched, baby_ , while you’re mostly drunk is an amazing proposal. You’re right, I apologize.”

Look, Harry recognizes when he’s being mocked, and he especially recognizes when he’s being mocked by Louis, seeing as he does it so often. But there’s no reason to berate their wedding, not when Harry remembers it so fondly. He’s pretty sure Louis remembers it just as fondly, too.

“It worked, though, didn’t it?” Harry asks, gripping Louis’ thighs. It would probably be more comfortable to flip them over so they’re on their sides. That can still wait a few more minutes.

“Yeah, it worked,” Louis says, not trying to hide his smile. “You do realize that we’re either going to have to help them plan our second wedding or come back to a huge, garish event that suits neither of our styles, though, right?”

Harry shudders. “Why did you let me do this,” he laments.

Louis raises an eyebrow and flicks one of Harry’s nipples. “Because you never listen to me when I tell you things?” he asks. “And you always think that everything is a competition you have to win?”

“That’s completely untrue,” Harry protests, sliding his hands up and down Louis’ thighs gently. He can’t decide whether he wants to try for another round or wait a couple hours and wake Louis up with his mouth on his neck. “You just don’t want to admit you goaded me into it. And now we’re stuck getting re-married in a giant castle with thousands of people watching.”

“It probably won’t be that bad,” Louis says, shrugging. “They’ll probably even let you bring your crew in to stay a few nights. As long as you promise no one’s going to steal anything.”

Harry can feel his eyebrows knitting together. It kind of sounds like Louis wants to have a big, lavish ceremony, and that’s something Harry didn’t expect. Not after their actual wedding, the two of them standing in front of a priest with only Liam, Niall and Zayn behind them, witnessing. It had been incredibly informal, a quick ceremony, and it had been over before Harry had even realized it.

Easy. It had been easy. Much easier than most of the other stuff in their relationship, and Harry likes that. That the two of them getting married just made so much sense they did it without over-thinking it, without arguing about it. A natural progression of their relationship.

Plus the celebration afterwards had been pretty amazing. Louis in his lap, plenty of alcohol to go around, the night sky shining down upon them and the gentle rock of _The Sparrow_ underneath them. And that’s before any of the spectacular sex they had that night.

Louis must be reading at least some of that on Harry’s face. “You know I wouldn’t have had it any other way, you giant baby. It’ll just be nice to celebrate with me family. And to be allowed to sleep in the same room as you without having to avoid the guards.”

Harry can understand that. “As long as you’re not forgetting about how amazing it was,” he concedes, gripping Louis’ thighs and rolling them over a few times, until they’re in a good position for sleeping.

Louis’ answering smile is wickedly dirty. He doesn’t take his hands off of Harry as he says, “Gonna do me like you did me on our wedding night, alpha? Make me all full of you so everyone knows who I belong to?”

In all honesty, Harry would _love_ to do him like they did on their wedding night. His cock is uncomfortably hard in his pants, wishing for some room to breathe, some room to move. That can’t happen, though, not without bringing ten armed guards running into the room, and Harry’s long standing desire to keep his head attached to his body hasn’t faded.

That being said, there’s plenty of other things they can do, things that don’t involve Louis screaming until his lungs give out. 

Actually, it still might be a close call. Harry’s willing to take his chances.

“Don’t need to do you like I did on our wedding night for everyone to know who you belong to,” he whispers, drawing his fingers across Louis’ belly gently, ghosting over dried come, soft touching. “They know. Everyone knows.”

He knows he’s not wrong. Harry sets about proving it again anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My tumblr](http://crazyupsetter.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [My tumblr](http://crazyupsetter.tumblr.com/) if you're interested


End file.
